I came here with hopes to share a few thoughts, feelings and emotions. These inclinations and sentiments are weighing on my heart, in a good way, nevertheless. I knew everything that I was going to say and how I wanted to say it. Specifically, I wanted to share my view on what life’s like in Smittenville; but now that task seems hardest to complete. My thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps it’s because when I revisit the occurrence that I want to share, I find myself dwelling on that moment. I find myself smiling at how it seems as though he needs to hold my hand and play with my fingers. I linger on the thought of his smile, the sound of his laughter, and his dimples. Each time, I re-savor what has already occurred. I am reliving that moment as if the past is the present. It’s truly remarkable to be able to do such.
Love? I think I have a long way to go before I get there. Meanwhile, I’m enjoying what my friends call smitten. I like smiling for no reason. I like the text messages throughout the day. I like the dates. I like when we just stay at home. I like the stories he has to tell. I like how he turns and looks at me, with his head slightly slanted, just to show that he’s listening to me. I love when it’s just me and him.
I probably shouldn’t put all of my eggs in one basket, but I honestly can’t help it. I don’t even have time to juggle all of the names, personalities, and “chill dates” with other people. I don’t want to. I can’t help the fact that every one else seems so obsolete to me now. My mind is consumed with pleasant thoughts. I try to keep those thoughts private but my attitude and my smile opted out of the offer I presented to keep those thoughts private.
My friends are having a blast with advertising my newfound happiness. Their comments are profuse. My sister has a myriad of vulgar, yet hilarious, things to say. But in particular, she claimed that I appeared as if I was floating.. no, flying.
Previously, I’ve felt as though I no longer knew how to love due to all that I’ve been through with my last relationship. I guess there is no such thing as a bird forgetting to fly..