Intimacy

I’m dying to meet you but at the same time I was actually hoping if you would just stay wherever you are and don’t come near me. I’m almost used to having the fear of being pushed away by you whenever we talk or interact out of the concern of being too intimate. And there’s a limit for a person to endure that kind of fear.

What is intimacy anyway? The amount of skins you’ve touched or stand close too? Or as Mae Darling said:

the person always in the back on your mind, no matter how distracted you are?

The day after being invited to a lovely dinner with some lovely people, Let’s just say a friend of mine just crossed the line by (without anyone asking) bluntly stated her opinion on our whole situation. She mentioned all the possibilities that he might ended with someone else if you don’t declare your feelings and all that. And that’s rude. Because damn right I do worry about them all the time and I don’t need more people to be telling me that! But you know what, I chose to want this, with all the flaws, the risk, the imperfections (because impurities and atom defects right? #materials #pffftt #nerd) 

To love is to love, I don’t think claiming that a person belongs to another person would help you reassure who ends up with who, so what’s the point? Some of you might even think, “oh come on now, nobody’s that innocent,” sure, we may not be, but love is. Love is innocent. It is a pure and uncorrupted joy to live for.

Admit it, we do have great chemistry (and history) (I’m talking school subjects now). Heck, we’ve known each other for more than a quarter of our lives! We’re partly exclusive but in the end there’s no other name to call it than he’s my friend, and us is the kind of friendship (or anything-ship basically) that lasts.