The Book Of Quotes

XXXVI

Him.

What's happening to me?

It's all happening again, it's all about him.

Everything comes back faster than winter seasons every year, faster than walking by different streets in a car and even faster than that rollecoaster ride. I can already sense my stomach turning while pouring my heart right now.

There's this thing about him that always brings me back to square one.

The way he talks makes my stomach flutter, the way we eye contact really strings my heart, the way he smiles gets me stuttering and when he plays his guitar - oh man - I cannot even think of anything better to watch or listen to. He's intoxicatingly amazing and lovable.

I think I have been wasting way too much time, trying to find the greatest words to describe how I feel about him. I always end up saying the simplest thing like, "I love you," it's that simple. This is never about not being able to live without him. My life just seems so much better with him in it, with his hands in mine and thoughts of him in my head.

Dear Him,

So, all I am trying to say is that if you have nowhere else to fall, fall into me. I promise there will always be space for you.

I'm always waiting for that message from him that can instantly change my mood. I know I'm clingy, with many flaws and a little - sometimes stupid but when I do love somebody, I love passionately with no doubts nor regrets and without further noticing their flaws becomes somehow - invisible.

I'd hold your hand and cross a busy road with my eyes closed, that's how much I trust you.

I don't want to keep expecting way too much and get hurt at the end, I won't be able to bare the hurting and the pain. It's intolerable.

Waiting, waiting and waiting. Thinking, thinking and thinking of what does he want to talk to me about. When's the right time? If only I could read minds.

I was a hundred percent sure I was over him but there were some nights I imagine what I might do if he showed up unexpectedly expressing his love to me. How if he walked into the room this very second every awful feeling of pain, friend-zone and weakness I felt before would be tossed out the closest window and all the love would suddenly rise up again. It would pour through my eyes as if it never really left in the first place, as if it's been practicing how to stay silent so long only so it could be this loud on the arrival.

Can somebody explain that?

How even when the love leaves, it doesn't leave?

How even when I am so past you, I am so helplessly brought back to you.

I still want you, I - I still love you.

—Nadia Haitham