Third week in, and SF#1 and Sexy Guy are getting on like a house on fire.
Remember the initial stages of falling in love? Noticing that your heart is not just an organ pumping blood obeying the autonomic nervous system, but an independent biological entity, hurting, running at an unsustainable speed or going on strike in the presence of the object of your desire? The disappearance of the world around you, all crystallized in one person whose eyes are all that is left in your field of vision? The impossibility of spending more than fourty-five minutes without hearing their voice/writing a message/touching them? Hours passing by while in each other's arms, whispering fantasies, acting fantasies? 'You' becoming 'I'?
I know I should be happy.. But.. I am not sure, I am not convinced. There is something wrong; something is off key. Maybe I am the Thanatos to her Eros, the intertwined essences of Love and Death, the terror the grasps us when truly happy, the fear of losing all when we have it all. But, hey, what do I know, I am an EI, right?
Of course SF#1, being an over-controlling life planner, has already ordered new monogrammed hand towels with his initials. I am crossing all appendices, pseudopods, fingers and toes.. This time, if she falls, she is going to fall hard. Gigatons hard.
Ouch!
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