it's like tryin' to fight gravity on a planet that insists that love is like falling, and falling is like this


Dammit, I don't know why I'm writing here instead of there, 'cause I do love nicholas being able to read what I think. I do love being able to keep in touch with Sam better, 'cause he's one of my favorite people in the world, and we never talk. I do love inspiring Pallavi to write more, because the girl has so much shit in her head, and I never know how to help her deal with it. I do love the fact that I can have all my thoughts there, and that I can paint a portrait of my life right now, because it is so good, so perfect, so undeniably incredibly special to be with a boy like nicholas. I do love that I have a pretty page and pretty thoughts and pretty words. But I'm fucking insanely in love and I feel like I'm being a bitch if I shout it out to the rooftops in a place where I know that Jeni'll read it. I can't write there and forget that she's reading it, and I can't write there and write as if I'm writing to her; I really don't like her, and I'd want to be able to say that too. Ugh. Not liking her makes me feel like such a stupid bitch. I'm happy and in love and can go listen to a nicholas breathing in my bed right now (.....ah. Yes. I did do that for like an hour. Blessed air coming from his beautiful lips.) and she's just lost that, something that they thought they were going to have forever.

I can tell him how I feel about things, I can act silly with him, I can complain to him about not liking probstats (me? not like a math class? goddamn, I want to kill silly Houdre for being so fucking boring! I want to find Mr. Bach, and just learn all the math that he knows, and then, we can do projects together. Of course, I could just make nick my own personal math tutor, which would be fucking awesome: to get into theoretical discussions with him, but I'm so self-conscious around him about intelligence! He said to me tonight that he can tell that when I'm around him, I try to impress him, and I know it's true, because it means so much to me that he thinks I'm smart. I guess it's a little petty of me that it matters as much as it does, but that's really what makes nicholas different from anyone I've ever met: I don't ever ever want to dumb myself down for him, and I don't know why I've always done that before. I know that Karl thought I was smart, and he liked being able to have intelligent conversations with me, but it pissed him off something mighty that I would never study in Chem, and still do better than him on the tests. We would get in fights about it, and he would act like he hated me for being smart! And act like it was luck. And that I was holding something back from him, like I had some secret for doing well at things that I wouldn't tell him because I liked holding it over his head that I was smarter than him. (And I'm not saying that I think I was smarter than him, because I don't know, he can do things I can't, and has different priorties. He doesn't like to read books for fucking god's sake, and yet he still got 5's on the english AP's... that means something, right?) And I do know I'm still in the original parentheses, here... got a little sidetracked, but that's the way I write dammit, and that's the way I think. Tangents are interesting psychologically, if you let yourself explore them. Okay. Now, take that sentance for example: I say that in a little pretentious manner, I think. And I say that knowing that no one I know will read it, because this is my little secret page where I can write and only strangers will read it. It makes me think that I like talking like I'm smart, just for the fun of it. And when I talk to nick, I can be that way, and be honest with him about what I'm thinking, and speak Truth, the way I see it. Real Truth. I can talk to him the same way that I talk to myself, and I don't think that I do that with anyone. I'm incredibly honest with Elena, but sometimes I'll be a little extra girly and giggly, just cause I know that we have more fun that way, that she'll keep on thinking that I'm her best friend, because she really is mine. I miss her so much sometimes. Only Mike really realizes how much I miss her because I would talk about her and he knows how much I love her, because of how much kissing her meant to me. When we were going through our night of tears, his because he was drunk, mine because I hated to see him so hurt, I was twisting her ring around my finger in habit, and he looks down and says, "That's Elena's ring." I froze for a moment. Sighed. "Yeah." Sometimes I think that there was more there than I like to admit. He was such a fucking asshole, but every now and then, he would say something, and he would look into my eyes, and I would really feel like there was something. And, of course, as I'm writing this, Hayden starts playing. That's why she is only a dream, the girl of my dreams...someone to make me laugh, someone to be my better half, keep me warm... I hate the way that I turn all old relationships into hate. Love and hate, two sides of the same coin. I can't hold onto the middle of the coin with anyone. I want to be able to remember the nice nights that Mike and I had, the notes he would leave for me to find when I woke up... him singing to me. I want to remember what made me giddy about Karl, and I can't. I want to not hate him for having taken up so much of my life, and leading me to break down in tears because of the fact that I had no friends but him. I want to not resent him for letting the two of us become so incredibly codependant, because it was, most certainly, my fault too. I'm sick of being in this parenthetical place, but I don't want to get out, because I don't know what I was saying as I entered it.)

I don't know. I do know that I love nicholas with all of my being, and all of my thoughts and all of who I am and who I want to be. He makes me happy in ways I can't even begin to describe, and have to hope that he understands when I smile a simple, perfect smile, that it is all for him, and that a smile for his eyes is so much different than a smile for anyone else, because it means everything that I can't say. I have so much inside that I simply do not know how to express. It's a contentedness, a bliss, that is more perfect and complete than I thought possible. How can it be possible that a person can be so good for me, and so understanding of everything I think and everything I say? How can it be possible that the person that gave me a ride home that night after playing Uno, that looked at me like a treasure he had found, but I refused to believe it, because he did hold her hand all night, he did stroke her knee: that person, who as we drove home, and I was so content just to have met such a person, just at the possibility that I could now have an excuse to keep emailing him, touched my knee for a split second through the hole in my jeans

and electrified me

can now be so madly in love, and be interested in making me blissfully happy for as long as I want?



i love you, nicholas loren black.