in the life of luke.

11/14/18

11/14/18-
[6:28 pm]
You're mine. Two words. The two words that caused adrenaline to rush through my veins. Causing the heat to run straight to my cheeks. The two words that caused a huge smile to appear on my face. I was his. Am his. His. And he's mine. He called me his baby. My heart filled with joy. The mere thought of being claimed. By him. Was it really true? Was I really his? Did he want me? I want him. Now more than anything. Here in my arms, inhaling him like when you smell your favorite food being made. Would our hands fit perfectly together? Like a lost missing piece to a jigsaw puzzle. Would my body pressed against his in a tight hug, fit as if I was meant there? Would I never want to let go? Our hands, fingers interlocked together. Would he hate me when he saw me for real? He promises our love is forever, but nothing lasts forever. All good things must come to an end. Including us. Not yet. Not now. He will soon grow to hate me, and find me annoying. Leave me like everyone else does. But maybe, just for now, I can keep him happy with what we have. The love we share. Is that enough? I doubt I will have forever love. No one could love me after what has happened. I can barely go as far as being kissed. Held. Hugged. He doesn't want that. He doesn't more than that yet. It's gonna happen eventually. But how could I ever give up that part of me? He wants a family. I want a family. We want a family. We planned everything out. Puppy. Baby. Daughter. Adoption. Marriage, unsure. Us forever? Even more uncertain. Us temporary? Sounds about right. I'll enjoy it while it lasts. Enjoy him for as long he wants me and continues to deal with my bad moods.
Moods. Hormones raging inside me. Please be just the hormones. The chance of possible bipolar disorder, will bring me down. I cannot be bipolar. Not because of my damned grandmother or great grandmother. Could it have been passed to me? Could it have corrupted my DNA? I wanna stay up here, high forever. Above cloud 9. Passing cloud 11, 12, 13. I don't wanna go crashing down. Don't wanna pass cloud 3, 2, 1. Don't wanna hit the ground. The impact, the hard impact sure to destroy me. Like glass, I'll shatter. Will someone come and collect the pieces? Glue them together? Not the same, but right enough. Fragile glass, that's what I am. Sensitive, clingy, overprotective, moody. A brat. How could someone as perfect as him, ever love someone like me? He deserves the world. Deserves so much more than I have to offer. So then, what exactly does he want with me?