spur-of-the-moment writing is the best way to waste time. unrelated bits and pieces and things.
you don’t call it a crush, because it’s not, not really. you’d always thought there would have to be more emotions involved before you can label anything as one – but even you have to admit that this one’s close, close enough that it might just be you being stubborn and refusing to admit to the obvious.
this one’s close, because sometimes he turns you into a tongue-tied nervous wreck and that only happens when you actually care. and sometimes you dream of fragments of him and you wonder how much your subconscious has latched on without your realizing. you wonder if he has a girlfriend already, and then think,
of course, why wouldn’t he.(it’s only the ones you’re nervous around that you really like.)
~
when you close your eyes, you dream of rickety paris streets and unending hawaiian beaches. they’re half-dreams and half-nightmares – you call them the latter as well because when you wake up, the ache of what you can’t have is twice as strong now that you’ve had a taste of the could-have-beens (even if they’re just the constructions of your mind).
they’re could-have-beens, not because of rules or expectations but because of your own self-confinement. because you want to see the world but you know you’ll never be brave enough to do half those things you imagine doing – and that’s worse, somehow.
( ~ )![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
