It's one of those days...I mean nights...I mean mornings when I could have stayed up all night writing but didn't. I simply stayed up all night. Which is no big deal to me, especially when there are people around and things to talk about and thoughts to be had. This was one of those nights, although apparently the thoughts don't stop after the morning, even when the people do.
Why do I want to kiss her so much? What is it about a kiss, a fleeting instant of contact that I feel I would regret if I didn't ask for again and again? How did I get so fucked up that I want to make it no less special, no less nice in the least unoriginal sense of that word, than with you? Because no matter how many times you say it, you're not her, and she's not you. Kissing her wouldn't be like kissing you and it sure as hell wouldn't mean the same or feel the same or express the same. No matter how many similarities you share, some things are just simply different.
I've put too much thought into this. I know that. I realize it fully. But when you've gotten no sleep, even something this small feels like the end of the world. So I think I'll play it as such. In any case, I think I may go catch up on a bit of sleep that I missed this morning...or what will soon be afternoon. Alright, so maybe not that soon, but I don't necessarily expect to be up by then, so it's alright.
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