My day didn't go all that well today. Sadly, nothing's been going well for me as of late.
I'll be more specific: today, for the second day, Mike was out sick. Naturally, I worried. But two days, two days I normally get to see him, tolled on me. By the middle of the day I was so wrapped in my delusions of how bad he might be that everything suffered. Every thought connected to Mike.
And I loathed it.
By the time I got home, I practically assaulted my mom's purse for her cell phone because she was on the house phone. I called him.
Thank god he answered.
What began as a simple conversation to check his vitality turned into something more serious. It was my fault, mainly, because when I'm on the phone my mind wanders, and I drifted off, leaving Mike to ask what was on my mind.
Before I could come up with a good excuse, I blabbed about prom. And how I wanted to ask him out to prom.
Then I did.
He didn't give me an answer... yet. No news is good news, right? That's how I see it, even though deep down I know better. Usually the longer he stalls, the more he's trying to be soft about his answer.
Oh, it gets worse.
I somehow came out telling him that, yeah, I still like him. I explained how I'd been keeping it hidden because I told him it was nice to not have awkward feelings between us.
He said me liking him didn't matter, didn't bother him. But there was no hinting towards him liking me.
Sigh. This was all supposed to be a gradual, planned thing, not a twenty minute phone conversation that turned into a spill-your-guts-out festival. I feel so stupid for telling him that.
But at the same time... I feel relieved. I can write now without the cloud of Mike dangling in front of my thought process, which pleases me.
Oh, and a little FYI:
A couple comments in my last blog had people wondering why I liked Mike so much if he was jerking me around so. I guess I'll explain in some short, few words.
He's amazing. I don't have to say a word for him to know when I'm upset, angry, exalted, or just bored. We can look at each other for minutes at a time, silent conversations held by our eyes. He's comforting on so many levels, knows just how to hold me to make me feel loved. His kisses are the biggest eye-openers, no matter where they are on me, be it cheek, forehead, or (in the past) the lips. He doesn't care that I'm crazy, that I have my own language when I speak in person, that I'm overly protective and emotional. He loved me for who I was, not what I had or what I could become. We had everything to live for, everything to die for, and nothing was in our paths.
I'm sorry, I can't write anymore on it. I don't want the tears to hit the keyboard.
And so everything started with the end.
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