Getting Lifted

Or eated by mosquitoes, as it happens

The only person allowed (by self, of course) to lift me off my feet is my big brother, since I know he loves me more than I know what to do with – and he would not – well, wait for it – The Gorgeous One got me in a half beat – I have trust issues – let me fall.

I have trust issues? I never even thought about that one. (Scratches self again)

I trust that when I knelt to kiss you over the dinner table, while I was in the middle of cooking, and you scooped me up and span me over the oven – that you would take the mantle over from my big brother, and not drop me over the oven.

I trust that these are mosquito bites – gotten whilst you took me out to ‘watch the moonlight over the ocean’ and the stars and stuff – at midnight. I trust that was the most romantic date I have ever had with anyone. My trying to distract the coast guard? Icing on the .. well.. sand. Or getting ‘kicked out’ by the police? Who knew?

Scratches self again

Trust issues? What trust issues?

Ok, you got a point – or two, or well, loads of points.

I have spent so much time running away from everything and everyone that I do not even know if there is anything left to run away from anymore – and that includes myself.

And then I met you.

And I am giving a shit.

When you say that you love me, I look into your eyes, and I know that you mean it. And it scares the hell out of me. That is trust right there.

And I am left wondering what to be; the adult or the child.

I have always been the loved, not the lover. Now, I cannot tell.
I have always been in charge – the independent. Now, (shrug)
I have always been one step ahead – now I am lugging behind

Damn these mosque bites

Brother Outlaw tells me often enough that you are a ‘lucky bastard’ to be with someone like me. I beg to differ. I am the lucky one (and not a bastard, mind)

What is it?

Is it because I finally met my match?
Is it because I finally grew up and realised that the world is not just about me?

Scratches again – why do mosquitoes only bite legs and arms (notwithstanding the exposure, of course)?

I ache when I am not with you – serious and scientifically provable ache.

This is gonna upset a few human specimen – but finally, the G got got.
And not just by mosquitoes, or the coast guard.

Maybe it’s all in my mind.
But those eyes – damn those eyes
Always
The way he looks at me
How they half-close when he is explaining something to me
Something that is important to him, and he wants me to understand it
And I am half listening, and half staring
And he chuckles and goes: ‘What?’
And I stop myself before I say: I am staring at your eyes – you could be talking about the weather for all I care – or about McCain (the rodent, not the politician – not that I can distinguish between the two) – but somehow I end up having multitasked and know exactly what he was talking about, without actively having participated in the conversation.

He makes me want to be a better person
(OK, I stole that off Jack Nicholson, but who asked anyway?)


Slaps face: Is it possible to get Malaria in ‘the Hub’?

Am I gonna read this in about a month and go: WTF was I thinking?
Probably
Possibly
Practically

I was never good at this falling in love crap anyway – hence why I always took a back seat at it.
Or maybe it has always been my ‘defence mechanism’ to stop myself getting hurt, or letting go, or something.
Hence why I was quite ‘jolly’ at him lifting me, but screeching and telling him to let me go – which prompted the ‘trust issues’ mini-debate.
Or when I spent the night at the ‘snake house’ and I couldn’t sleep – and he said something about me being worried about him ‘leaving me in the middle of the night’ – which had nothing to do with that, but everything to do with the snake.

I hate this feeling- especially since it feels so bloody good.
Like when I scratch these itches.
Are you sure I ain’t contaminated with something?
(Logs on to Google to find the CDC hotline)

Contingency plan number 218: Disabled