I’m in love with you. Yeah, it’s that bad. You’re so beautiful to me. Shut up, let me tell you, let me. Every time I look at your face, or even remember it, it wrecks me. And the way you are with me, and you’re just fun and you shit all over me and you make fun of me and you’re real. I don’t have enough time in any day, to think about you enough. I feel like I’m gonna live a thousand years cause that’s how long it’s gonna take me to have one thought about you, which is that I’m crazy about you. I don’t wanna be with anybody else. I don’t. I really don’t. I don’t think about women anymore. I think about you. I had a dream the other night that you and I were on a train. We were on this train and you were holding my hand. That’s the whole dream, you were holding my hand and I felt you holding my hand. I woke up and I couldn’t believe it wasn’t real. I’m sick in love with you. It’s like a condition, it’s like polio. I feel like I’m gonna die if I can’t be with you and I can’t be with you, so I’m gonna die and I don’t care cause I was brought into existence to know you, and that’s enough. The idea that you would want me back? It’s like, greedy.
I know it’s nothing that a plane ticket or car ride couldn’t fix, but god, you don’t understand it unless you’ve been in it, unless you’ve felt it. It’s that feeling that hits your chest when you two finally say goodnight after listening to each other’s voices for the past few hours, and you’ll wonder why every time you say goodnight it feels like a goodbye. It’s how even though you two just had a wonderful conversation your eyes start to fill up with tears because it’s a bittersweet feeling, because once they hang up you’re alone again. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. You’re alone. It’s how a good morning text stands in for a good morning kiss, and how a “what’re you doing?” replaces hand holding. It’s how you two can’t help but talk about how every moment will be spent when you’re finally together, how a kiss will be more than just a kiss, how a hug is something that will last hours instead of seconds, and how looking in each other’s eyes will be more like analyzing each little spec of dark brown in their iris. It’s how you know that once you get to touch their skin it will be like touching the moon, and each little freckle will be your star to wish on, only yours. It’s how you’ll discover new galaxies in their laugh, and how each little scar will be more than that, it will be a story you want to read, so you’ll trace your fingers across them like braille. You’ll think of all this, all day, every day, every moment, even when you two are lost in conversation, you’ll think of it. And that’s the thing that keeps you hanging on, that keeps you going. The promise that every time you see the moon, it’s one step closer to seeing them soon. So you’ll close your weary eyes, and dream of them in your arms. Once you awake there will be a message, “Good morning…” and shall your love be awakened again, to swim through oceans, travel over mountains.