You Really Got a Hold on Me

I'm frightened by how much I like you. What's even scarier is the fact that for the first time in five, six years, you like me just as much. Maybe even more. My usual tendencies of worrying whether or not you'll call never came to fruition. Even last week, when I did freak out, it ended up being for nothing. That's how engrained let down is in me. It's par for the course. But now, in some miraculous twist of, I don't know, fate? Is that too strong of a word? In the screwed up way the universe works I no longer feel doubt. While I'm extremely lucky at how things have been turning out, they're no where near perfect. With my luck always comes misfortune. I can never have it too good. The deeper we get into this the worst it's going to become. Either for me or for you or for everyone involved. That's what will happen. Currently I'm so happy that later the downfall will be more severe than it's been in the past. You're not another boy I randomly met and hit it off with immediately. Where we play phone/text tag for a few weeks before you decide you're still in love with you're ex-girlfriend or just not that into me. No, this is different, and that allows for a greater loss and a more difficult, albeit more obvious reason as to why I may eventually never hear from you again. I don't want that to happen though. This path only leads to two routes though, and you're the one who's forced to choose. Unless I choose for you, and that's when it will be me you never hear from again. But I don't want that. Every time I see you I hope I change my mind, I hope some lightbulb goes on inside my head or my heart that tells me, "No," and that's it. That hasn't happened yet, in fact it's been the complete opposite. The more I see you the more I feel for you and then when you leave I'm left with nothing but my thoughts of you. I feel sixteen again. And I like it. We'll figure things out. Eventually.