I'll probably eventually find another guy and forget all about Billy. But for the time being, he's on my mind. Really on my mind. Mm. I'm REALLY visual for a girl. Like, looking at Billy is mmm. I'm like, in lust. I really struggle with that. Like, I don't just look at his face and think of how pretty and cute it is. I look at ALL of him. As much of him as I can see. And I don't just think of how good he looks. I'm not just like, 'Ooh, pretty!" or "*drool* he's so cute." It's like, "I want it." Like, as incredibly wrong and dirty it sounds to say it, I wanna touch him, feel him, hold him, kiss him. And I go off into my own little made-up world where me and Billy are sitting on that bench swing at the park on Beam Avenue, over-looking the town, while the sun is fading off, all orange-lit on the horizon, and reflecting off of the pond. And as it gets colder, I snuggle closer to him, his arm around my shoulder, my head on his chest. And as I breathe in his scent, I look up, but he's already looking back down at me, and the butterflies take off in my stomach. I search his eyes; at this point all conversation has stopped, but it's not uncomfortable or awkward, because we're talking through our eyes, and somehow we both know that this is real; we'll be with each other for the rest of our lives. But my eyes wander from his, and I start observing the rest of his face, his body, and after a while my eyes somehow stumble upon his mouth, and they don't want to move. Those lips. Are mine. And so I think to myself, "I could kiss them; i could taste them. He's mine and I'm his. Should I go for it? I want to, but I'm so afraid." But he's way ahead of me, leaning closer, we're breathing heavier. My stomach flies and my heart skips a beat, and just as I'm about to feel his lips on mine, someone in the real world says something and I snap out of it. And I sit, so whole-heartedly wishing I could go back into my dream-world, or beter yet, that my dream world could become reality. But instead, I'm whipped back into some conversation that could never matter that much to me.
It still gives me butterflies.
Poop. So not over that boy.
