Viscous cycle

Every morning without a conscious thought, I wait for your texts. We’ve established some kind of a rhythm. I know now when to expect, and when not to. Texts that we both know are excuses. I know because I make them too. Like a swing lifting higher and higher with every gentle push, this everyday ritual is slowly but surely bringing us closer. So close that I can see the lines fading, and I can do nothing more than panic at the thought of pain our closeness will inevitably induce on one another.

I can’t recall if I always saw this overwhelming innocence in your ways. I can’t tell if others can see the same endearing quality in your puppy eyes. What I do know is, there is something very childlike and innocent about you, and it brings out a kid in me. Your simple remarks, clarifications about yourself, justification to clear misunderstandings, and pretty much every little thing you do tells me that you like me immensely. How can I be so confident one moment, and so oblivious the next? I like the little games we play, the excuses we make to call each other, the white lies we tell one another while exposing the most vulnerable corner of our heart at the same time. I like closing my eyes to fully immerse in the moment when I hear your voice over the phone giggling on the other side. Do you find me funny, or is the happiness of hearing my voice so difficult to contain that you can’t stop yourself from laughing incessantly? 

Undoubtedly, there is something magical about existing in a moment where only you and I exist, being part of a conversation that only we are a part of, and sharing experiences that for the lack of better word feel like outer body experiences. If an hour feels this good, undoubtedly we both want more of each other. I’m sorry I held back, I panicked, I couldn’t choose a path that would bring us immense joy because I’m afraid that this happiness will come at a cost. I’m afraid to get so close that the heat of our skin melts one another. I am sorry I only want to tease the fire, touch it ever so slightly so that I know I’m alive, but I am not ready to walk on the coals yet. Something tells me you understand, you always do, and that’s why I like you even more.