Impatient.

This whole thing is crazy. Well, I am crazy. I can’t stop thinking about him. His smile, his laugh, his kisses, his hugs, his voice, his smell, how adorable he looks in scrubs and how delicious he looks in jeans. I can’t help it. He has stolen my thoughts and laid claim on part of my heart (discovered by the way my heart stops when I see him and then beats extraordinarily fast when he draws near). I hate the way I second-guess him. I hate the way I second-guess myself. I am pretty, smart, fun, quirky, and enticing. He is crazy about me: he loves the way I kiss him. He loves the way I smell. He loves the way we fit so well together.

So why, if I know all of that, why do I put myself through hell when he’s not around? Why do I question everything? Where is my confidence as a woman? I have a crazy passion to make this work. I fell for this guy the second his eyes met mine. A small part of me wants him to break my heart. Another small part of me can see us moving in together and spending evenings going to Lux and sharing crazy hospital stories. The rest of me doesn’t know what to think, and that is the part I pay most attention to. It is easier that way – not expecting. I don’t expect him to hurt me – but I also don’t expect it to work.

Without hearing from him, without knowing, it’s hard for me. The way my mind works – I dwell, I analyze, I obsess. I end up thinking that I said or did something wrong and that he will hate me forever for it. Not seeing him for days at a time makes me wild, but passionately wild. I get excited to see him, and seeing him by surprise is the absolute best.

So, I just need to be. Just be me. Just hang out, and enjoy life. That isn’t hard is it? Just relaxing and going with the flow? Being ok with it when I don’t see him and excited when I do. It’s heartbreaking and intoxicating for me all at once. Sitting here at lux, I can’t help but turn my head every time the door opens. I want it to be him. I want him to come in here, kiss me, and tell me how much he’s missed my face.

This whole thing feels kind of like learning to run. At first it is so hard and you psych yourself out. You keep thinking “I can’t do this. I can’t breathe, I can’t even pick my legs up again. I can’t.” But little by little you start realizing that you can do it. It gets less and less hard. I hope that is what this turns out to be. I don’t mind learning to run. I don’t mind the struggle and the strife for a little while, as long as I know that it does get better – And I sincerely hope that it does.