I love him

I love him.

I can’t help it, this is a natural response, my mind, body and heart are not all thinking on the same level.

I can’t understand.

Do I love him, honestly?

Or is this just a superficial feeling?

I have to think rationally, but then again, does love call for rational thought?

Is it normal?

I suppose it is, everywhere we are inundated with views of love and lust and feelings.

It confuses me, more than reassures me.

I want someone to tell me how I feel.

I don’t believe I can trust my feelings.

If I did love this person, it’s not far if I’m not sure of myself.

Or is it?

If he loves me too, then whoever or whatever I am, he must accept me completely.

Love is about understanding.

About passion.

About feeling secure.

It’s life.

Without love, what do our lives really mean?

I ponder over these questions, letting them marinate in my brain. I laugh, at my own lack of creativity at describing my thoughts.

I hear someone laugh, at my laughing, and look up, startled.

I jump back in surprise, as he’s right in front of me.

How did he get there? And how did I not notice. If I love him so, and he is the centre of my universe, you’d have thought I would have noticed if he was right in front of me.

He smiles at me. I smile back.

What does this mean?

Do I analyse, and wonder what he is thinking? Or just accept a smile?

I feel my heart skip a beat, as he comes closer, and I feel my marinated thoughts begin to jumble.

I want someone to tell me how I feel. Then I want them to explain, in great detail, what he is thinking.

But, in reality, I don’t. If I love him as much as I think, I want to be able to explore every part of him slowly and alone. His thoughts are what I crave, and I won’t share them with anyone.

Thoughts of him tumble around in my mind, like a song on repeat. It’s a good song, but after the hundredth time, can be slightly nauseating.

Then I imagine all the possible scenarios. These make me feel even more ill, because I know that they are all fantasies, and most will never happen. If I make an effort, they could, but some are so unrealistic, I wouldn’t want them to happen anyway.

I want him. For real. Not something I concocted in my imagination.

He’s mine.

Whether he knows this or not matters little.

Whatever happens, I will always love him.

Uncertain of the future, or even the present, won’t stop me thinking about him. That’s one thing I can still do.

Just tell me how what he feels and wants. I want them too.

Without him, I’m incomplete.

No matter what anyone says, without him in my life, I can’t be myself.

He completes me.

Before I met him, I thought I was complete, but when we’re not next to each other, then I’m half who I’m supposed to be.

If I feel this way, it must mean love.

My mind swirls at all the possibilities.

I have to tell him how I feel. Even if not reciprocated, at least he’ll know that he’s special to someone.

I smile again at him, as he sits next to me.

I’m complete.

I love him.