I was just going to call this Angel, but when I finally finish watching it (will be starting next week), I'm going to undoubtedly write a post about all five series of Angel.
It occurred to me today that some people are more contagious than others, in the sense that certain things have you gripped. If someone has you gripped on conversation, it would be very hard to not talk to them if they were near by, or not call them, or text them. If someone had you gripped whenever you looked at them, it'd be hard to ever look anywhere else. And if someone had once let you feel something, they got beneath your skin and you want that feeling back, your desire to get that again would overcome most other desires.
Well, he does all three, and its driving me a bit insane. And I can hear myself, feel myself going a bit crazy, but I don't know what on earth can stop it, apart from attaining him. But even then I'd still be consumed. Like a drug addiction; there's no win. And I find myself trying to distract myself - I've just spent the evening perusing youtube for all Josh Hartnett interviews (one of the five, and not overly youtubed him before). But now I'm just seeing similarities between them. And there aren't many, but my mind can still find them.
I know how little time there is until the MA starts, but it doesn't stop my impatience. And I know that if I can just get through the next eleven days, things will start to get better, look brighter, be easier. But then I see him, and he tells me he wants to join me when I go out in Norwich with people I meet. And he tells me he hopes my best friend comes home for Christmas, so we can spend New Year's Eve together. And he knows what's in my head; well, he knows I like him, and I'm sure after my drunken antics of last friday he knows how I think he has the face of an angel, and... yet he sits there, gathered together and all, and tells me these things that make those voices in my head tell me it's mutual. But he just sits there. And as much as I don't want to literally throw myself at him, I don't know what else to do. Am I too far in the friend zone? Was he only interested in sex when he didn't know me? Or is he waiting for something - and if so, what? Is it to do with the way that he thinks he needs to be his idea of perfection, and if he's not there yet, it's wrong, or something? Does he not see just how fricking perfect he already is?? GOD DAMMIT.
My head won't shut up. I sit myself in my study (pink sofa bed and all) and watch Buffy all day. I get up in the morning to go to work, really fucking tired because I haven't slept properly because I'm having a hundred and one vivid as fuck dreams. And a lot of them involve bizarre scenarios in which I look a fool. Last night he was dying; I think a car had hit him, and I run over to him but his sister pushes me away, (the sister I have not met... not that I can remember meeting the other one) and tells me to get lost; I obviously look annoyed, so she asks me, "who the hell are you anyway?".
I wonder if he's found this blog. I wonder if he knows more than he lets on, because occasionally he's far too on the ball, he remembers conversations I don't even remember having, and more specifically, the details I've told him. Like, little moments I've mentioned before, and he remembers them, like talking about Arthur the other day, I was like 'God, I haven't seen Arthur in fucking ages! Must be five years or so..." and he says, "the night on the trampoline under the stars?". I couldn't even bring up my last memory of him that quickly, but he could. But then I get paranoid sometimes. My stupid fucking brain.
I wonder if he's just 'playing foolies' with me. Just leading me on, some ridiculous elongated joke. I wonder if he did it as a bet or a dare, and he just hasn't been able to get rid of me. I wonder, in the darkest moments, if before that weekend when we first hooked up, he'd heard from Whall; a scheme was devised where Whall would tell him certain things to and not to do, so that they could break my heart, just like I broke Whall's heart. I wonder if they will ever talk to each other, and if they do, would I come up? Would he be ashamed to mention it? Or would he be evasive to avoid the awkwardness? So many shitty thoughts whizzing around my brain right now.
I once made a simile that my mind is like a tumble dryer, with a certain amount of things in, slowly getting dryed. Right now, he's the only thing in the dryer, but it's going at full speed because it's bogged down with more water than you'd think possible.
I feel a bit like I'm under a spell. And that four letter word is scaring me at the moment. This isn't; it can't be...