give me one kiss and I'll be happy

oh god don't let me fall in love with him now

Sitting beneath neon lights, that song comes on. Amy is complaining about a new boyfriend (I don't know why she is so mad). I stare dismally into my milkshake, feeling far away, realizing, It makes me happy just to be with you.

Fuck.

"Give me, give me a chance to be near you..." god, this was all so stupid. I know it. I know it is, was, and always will be. And I know it doesn't really matter, but I don't care. I'll willingly be pathetic. It takes too much energy to shut it off, anyway. I take a sip of chocolate malt and lament my dreadful timing. (Not to mention my failing sense of perception, seemingly. You pulled the bag over my head like none other.) It wasn't my drunk talking. I meant it when I said I could kiss you forever.

And I don't even know why. You've caught me in some kind of hazy dance of acceptance, of the present, like nothing I've ever done before. It's new and strange and I want it fiercely. I'll keep dancing if it's what you want. You're acid for my emotions. Or maybe more of a vague addiction, a kind of reverse alcohol: you taste good going down, but I'm not sure if I like the aftereffects. And in spite of my rancid desire to control you, I would be utterly perplexed and disappointed if you ever actually let me. You can make me cry and you can be too blunt and you can make me come back for more and you can make my insides melt like butter in the microwave and you can make me laugh and you can make me happy and you can crush me momentarily and you can offend me and you can make me want to keep you forever, just the way you are, which is, of course, impossible.