I could write for days, weeks, months, years and still never express the truth. I could type forever and never have the right words pass through my fingertips. I could compose music and try to find your perfect song, but all would sound inadequate and childish to the complex melody needed for you.
Is this why I melt when I see you?
Why I can’t think, can’t talk, can’t breath all because your arm is around me? Why I lose whatever sense I may still have whenever you smile at me? How could one person affect another so deeply as to make her forget her own name?
It scares me.
Scary to think I may be weak enough to simply go crazy and forget it all, run away from everything I’ve ever known, just for one person. Scary that I might be involved in something far bigger and more ruthless than I’d ever imagined in my wildest dreams. Scarier then the proverbial monster under the bed.
But not as scary as losing you.
For that would be true fear in its plainest form. My nightmares taunt me with this, showing me our happiest moments and then ripping you from my arms. It’s enough to drive anyone out of their mind, but it scares me more than most.
Why, you ask?
Because I am constantly paranoid. Paranoid that this isn’t real, that it won’t last, that all the pessimistic people around me are right. What if we can’t last?
What if this isn’t real?
But then you smile at me again, and all my fears disappear.