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The unreasoned passion of my infatuation

I'm infatuated by you.

You've stolen my attention without me noticing your hands grasping for purchase. So quickly you caught me. How soon I went from pleasantries to pleasant dreams and all of them of you.

My god, you've stolen my attention.

Abruptly I find myself tumbling. Is he aware of my existence? Does he know how captivated I am by his convictions? His words, oh his words! I've never heard such a melody so sweetly sung. To hear him speak to me alone sends me above...


Jesus, what have you done?

Have I learnt nothing? I should know better than to let myself get caught up in this fleeting... but his eyes, oh when they lock on mine. Have I ever felt this warmth before? Here comes the reaching. The craving. Desperation to know more. Tell me everything you're thinking.



I must pause.

I'm infatuated by you.

I think its the wine, or perhaps the hours dreaming, but I can't seem to stop conjuring fake meaning. The bare minimum and I'm consumed.

It's not fair.

I'm infatuated by you. And I'm terrified of how long I can hide it. I have a tendency to let things show too quickly. I smile when you're near me and blush when you speak to me. At times I feel a laugh bubbling in my chest despite no joke being shared but I feel giddy with affection around you. Will I...won't I....

Stop scheming!

Sorry. I get lost in my own imagination sometimes. But I do love this feeling. I'd rather you go on being so I can simply bask in your light and pretend my hearts not screaming.

Oh, how I want you. Boo! Patience is a virtue.

But I am infatuated by you.

There's nothing more I can do. you feel it too? The thrum along the airwaves between us as I pour my hearts desperation out towards you.

I don't want to know. Or maybe I do. I can't decide. Is it better to know and risk sorrow or bathe in the possibilities of tomorrow and exist in my storybook tale instead. The answer is too risky to bare and I am too fearful to ask the question. Lest I lose your attention.

Press fast forward.

What awaits me in the dawn? New meaning or the same endless dreaming? This continuous loop of constructs as I build us up and down again in my mind. Never reaching a true conclusion.

Perhaps this feeling will pass.

I have a tendency to romanticise these feelings to heights that exceed their true meaning.

I am a lover after all, and I miss being in love.

Perhaps I am merely searching for a new object for my affection and placing that burden upon your shoulders. I am so blind to imperfections or friction when I get this way.

My crushes tend to swallow me whole and leave me unsure I have ever felt this way before. But I have. I remind myself of my past. Those I placed on pedestals who didn't deserve a mound of dirt under their feet. Those I praised like saviours who wouldn't save me if I truly felt in need.

So I have to pause.

Because, although I am infatuated with you. With your eyes, your hands, your voice and your smile...These are material objects of my devotion. And I've lost too much of myself on material obsessions before.

But when I look at you. Logic melts between my fingers that long to touch you. My mind tries to rationalise your kindness as merely curtesy by my heart wants to believe its more. A brush of exposed skin and I'm sent spiralling.

I wonder what it must be like to not obsess over these feelings.

Do others just live their lives without dreaming? Do you look into my eyes and see nothing but eyes? Just green. Not a shade you could get lost in but simply green. Like so many others.

I think I'm sinking. My words fail me when I cling to them most. To describe this dictionary could cope. It's too much, my heart gives in so easily. I see the best in everyone and I want to see it in you.

I fear I already do.

But what comes next. Love or loss, the natural progression. Will this feeling pass before you hear my confession?

I. Must. Pause.

These rose coloured glasses are so flawed! Stop speaking. The more I know of you the more I build you up in my mind. The more the image on the backs of my eyelids demands to be realised. But this is the best part.

This is my favourite part.

Before it inevitably falls apart. Before I reach and slip and crumble and have to build myself back up again. This is the part where I feel lightest. Because the possibilities are momentous. The paths before me stretch into the distance and any one could be a happy ending.

God. I love this part. But history has warned me of its transient nature. So, perhaps I will simply enjoy it this time.

Build you up, without testing the foundations. Letting the will of the universe sway it and letting the pieces fall as they may.

Perhaps its best if I keep it a secret.

So, object of my affection. Thank you. You've filled my dreams again with wonder as I daydream of you and me and what may never be.

I am infatuated by you.

Please continue.

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