crowings

Crushes are brutal, no?

To use a tired analogy (as that is what I am): you're floating along, a simple cloud, smiling at the soft breeze, dashing yourself haphazardly about, awaiting the horizon...

And suddenly someone comes crashing into your life who's just so smart, pretty, motivated, nice, alive and full of the most intimidating adjectives (in a word, I'd say I'm awestruck) that you'd trade anything to have even the smallest hint of her favoritism. Honestly, what would you do for that fluid embrace, that tender interlocking of warm mandibles and kindred thought? Shift your lifestyle, swap your parts around, uproot every thought, coddle and manipulate your emotions, project yourself everywhere, and (if you're anything like me) turn into something of a stone. You become a sort of mockery of yourself, dancing to some bizarre, unfamiliar tune, steps free of constraint, full of inane flights and twists, a hopeful dream. And the uncertainty... It's silly of me to act like this, isn't it?

I've had a lot of them in my life, but this one is a doozie.

...

I once claimed to a close friend that I was a romantic. She looked at me incredulously and asked, "How?"

I didn't know what to say, but believe me: somewhere up here it's all I can think about.