I'm stone drunk on his every gesture. Watching him walk does something supernatural to me.
The truth? I'm scared. He's too important for that. Boyfriends are people you break up with. Friends like Schuyler you keep forever.
My head is totally gone; there is nothing left but my heart.
I watch his mouth moves as he talks, eats, smiles - how beautiful. Now it's my mouth, too, in its own way. I have laid claim to it. My lips, my teeth, my tongue. How can he be using all of them without touching some part of me?
It hurts, just as he said it would. But it hurts in more ways than he even knows. It hurts the way dying must hurt, if you truly see a new world rushing at you.
There's a shape to happiness that can't be described, only experienced.
Am I madness? Do I need to be chained?
There is not a name for what I'm feeling. There's no description for it. To call it yearning would be like calling the ocean water. Whatever this thing is, it shoves you inside itself and you can't measure its boundaries, because they go too far and you don't have enough time.