In order to keep myself sane and from killing customers, while at work today, I continued to print out receipt paper and write on it.
I wrote two beautiful letters to an amazing man, but I doubt I’ll ever have the courage to express what I feel to him rather than some stupid piece of Payless receipt paper. I wish I was able to speak with even a skosh of the confidence, assurance, and freedom I possess when I write. I find the most important things to be the hardest to speak about. Not for fear or anything of the sort, but for the sheer fact that I don’t feel as though my words will do my feelings justice.
There are no words to describe the vast spectrum in which my feelings for this incredible, remarkable man lie on. All words seem to lessen the intensity. How is one to tell another how the mere idea of being without him leaves one breathless, speechless, motionless, cold, with a feeling of hopelessness- loneliness- with the intensity that said emotions are felt? I’ve yet to find a way.
The severity of my feelings for him is unfamiliar. I’ve never felt this way and it scares me. However, it intrigues me with every waking and dormant moment.
