“We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens.”

I feel good about myself today.

I don’t want someone to understand me, I don’t want someone to think about me, I don’t want someone to miss me when I’m away.

I want you.
All of you, all the time. I want every single piece of your being to belong to me, from the freckles on your back to the anxious thoughts that frequent your mind. I want you to feel safe and warm and loved and alive and I want to be your home and I want you to fucking need me in the same way that I need you.

But even more than that, I want to be yours. I want to be the open book on the table by your bed or your favorite t-shirt hanging around in the closet or whatever you need me to be.

The sky is darkening all around us: black and blue like some beautiful bruise. Your coal-colored curls brush my cheek and it is like the soft touch of the first summer rain against my warm skin. My body shivers as it touches yours and your lips turn up into the awkward and lovely smile that I know so well. Rain begins to pitter patter pitter patter on the roof of your truck, and I can almost feel it slide down the already rusted metal. You gather me up in your arms and force my eyes to look into yours. They are obsidian, more like black black jewels than windows into the soul, but so beautiful regardless.

I reach my left hand up to brush your hair back from your face and I whisper, “I have always wanted to cliff dive in a storm.”

“Then let’s do it,” you say with a wicked smile transforming your features.

“Are you sure?” my voice breathlessly asks. You grab my shoulders, hard, and your eyebrows furrow in seriousness.

“I will always be willing to jump into a dark and deep and dangerous abyss with you.” And somehow I know we are now talking in metaphors, so I kiss you hard and you kiss me back and I realize this is the moment we fall in love.

So I guess what I am trying to say is that when your eyes pierce mine I feel as if I can barely breathe and when your hand accidentally brushes my own the whole world stops spinning.

Make sure you're both getting what you want out of this -- as with any partnership, a lot of things are at stake here. And this other person's motives are probably more complicated than you realize.

I took a sip of the amber-colored drink that you handed me, vaguely caring what it was but mostly concerned with the deafening music that was consuming my whole entire being and vibrating inside of me, thump thump thump. For a split second my thoughts turned to the notion of you in my bed within me and my cheeks turned a shade of red that hopefully was not noticeable in the dark backyard of some house that belonged to someone neither of us knew. So I took that sip and it burned my throat with such a pleasant feeling that made me cringe anyway and made you smile and made me down the rest in one gulp. In the back of my mind I knew you were still mostly a stranger to me, an unusual boy I had met only a few weeks prior. You could have been the type of person to spike my drink, to use me for your adolescent desires, just to toss me aside the morning after or the minutes after or even during the god damned act. This all ran through my mind at a dizzy speed that I suppose was recognized by my brain but not comprehended in a way that would make me stop doing anything I was doing. Besides, it was too busy trying to stop my heart from beating out of my chest as you grabbed my free hand so tight and firm, forcing my body closer to yours. Our body heat began to mingle.