Better than I'd ever hoped. Worse than I could have imagined.
A flaring of passion, blot out the moon with the wonder, with the fire. Still feel her silver smile trickle between my shoulders as my hands press into her back. The moon, the star. The center of a night I could never have prepared myself for.
Whence the nightmare, then? There was dream-come-reality, over and over, so how does fear factor, how can anxiety entangle the experience?
Life presented for others -- too often becomes a performance. Steps of expectation turn into steps towards execution. That's the past I've known, at least, and a present I fear. I hate thinking I want too much, I hate not knowing what she wants. Which makes me realize, perhaps it's not so much expectation as it is uncertainty that is the gremlin here.
Perhaps, perhaps.
Not that I perform, not when life is before me. So when I make a mistake, it's the deep true me, not the mask slipping. That doesn't mean that the meaning of the mistake should be crystal clear. Hell, I don't really know what it means.
Dancing around the details makes for a confusing journal entry, I imagine.
To the point then:
I AM HAPPY.
And I am scared shitless. I hunger so much for passion, for a certainty and conviction of desire to meet my own, that all my common cravings are buried by it. It's strange, disconnecting, to feel this way.
I float about my days, in complete shock still.
Simply seeing her, hearing her, sensing her act this way overwhelms me, overawes me. All those tendrils, fiber of being, become hyper-aware, and I can't think of wanting anything more. It is a soul-feeding, and I just wish I could make that more physically apparent.
And as I gorge myself upon her passion, her needs, her yielding and her challenge, I expose myself... my own weaknesses, so close to the knife I don't see, the threat I can't imagine. She got so much closer so much faster than I'd ever imagined -- that's the better than I'd hoped part of what I said earlier, plus I *think* I'm closer to her heart than she expected to let me get -- and now I'm half-frozen from realizing what she could do to cut me, to make me bleed from soul and mind...
And her eyes, her voices already cut me to the deep, to the quick...
I am already fallen, falling for her, as I see her. Good lord, but isn't it all just first impressions, practically? Yes, in many ways... but the fire between us burns high and hot and it's rather hard to miss the messages in the flames.
I adore the power and the conviction she carries, almost unknowingly... some part mask, some part deep-running currents of her truest identity... and I adore the trembling weakness, the utter frailty she has shown me. A gift of the rarest kind.
I want to believe it's all real. I'll take the bad with the good, just so long as it's all true.
One foot in heaven, one in hell. Such is life, eh?