Don't You Shiver

And it's you I see, but you don't see me.
And it's you I hear, so loud and clear.

I like to forget you. To not speak to you for a few days, forget the sound of your voice, forget how you look, forget you exist. Then, the day before I'll see you again, I get so happy knowing you really do exist. I didn't dream you up in my mind. But as the night approaches, I feel worry, I get nervous. Then in the few hours and minutes before I see you, I feel sick to my stomach. Horrible illness. When I do see you, I feel debilitating nerves going through me, I feel awkward, I feel shy. I want to hold you. I want to be able to look in your direction, but I'm afraid that I'll catch you looking at me. Or worse, that I won't. Then when we walk out of the classroom, it's you I want to talk to, but for some reason we go off in different directions. I talk to Taylor, who I don't like nearly as much as you. You talk to Levi or Melanie or someone. Sometimes we'll meet up at the end. I want to give you a hug. I want to make you happy. How can I? I want you to feel accepted and safe and beautiful. I want all good things for you, but in the meantime my mind is spinning and my heart is hurting. I don't know. I wish what I wanted was what you wanted. The problem is that I don't know what I want. I've never met anybody like you before. Maybe I never will again. You make it hard to trust you because you're too wonderful, yet so flawed. I see your flaws: the anger, the overcontrolled blood lust, the egoism, the absolute confusion about being alone. Your niceness. I see your flaws, and at times you annoy me so much I want to tape your mouth shut. I know at times I irritate you. I see it, I know all that, and I still want so badly to get to know you better. Be my passtime, won't you? Just getting to know you. Some things you say really make me sad or surprised, but it is what it is. I love the way you smell: women soap, cigarettes, marijuana, alcohol, Pantene, good hygiene and bad health. I want to see you lose control one of these days. It's the same love I have for everyone, the love I have for you. I'll know I meet my one and only when I feel a separate love. For you, it's the commonlove. That's okay because it's still every inch as real. Can we just sit on your couch and watch Requiem for a Dream? And never grow tired of each other, only temporary? I am anticipating much hurt tomorrow. I am anticipating tears, screaming, ripped heart, anxiety, everything horrible in my emotions. But it's okay. I will hold you another day, you'll hold my hand, we'll be okay. We can be fucked up together. Here's what I'll do: I'll be fiercely independent, and you will too. You'll keep working at Shakes, I'll get a job at Starbucks, we'll chat sometimes, it'll be lovely. Maybe some nights we'll grab some dinner. Or maybe we can just sit and talk. Or not talk. Both. I feel scared. I'm scared of you, do you know that? In the worst way possible. In the way that means you're seeing more of me than anyone on Earth, aside from my oldest friends and my dad, has seen. You scare me to death. My god. You are so beautiful.