Clint

This isn’t like me. Except, maybe it is, and I forgot what it’s like.
I don’t exactly know what I’m feeling. But whatever it is, it makes me cry when I try to understand it.
I know that it’s not about me.
But I have to take a deep breath.
No, I can’t kid myself. I know exactly what it is. This is love.
My brain, my ghost, it… I fight for this. It’s the only thing. And for some reason, he is fighting for me, too.

What is so weird is that I don’t need to try as hard as I thought.
I think I am starting to relax a little. Relax and enjoy.
He isn’t like other people. He says what he means, and that’s it. Honesty.
I am used to digging for what is actually being said. I don’t have to do that with him.
Even though this seems new to him, I think he’s enjoying it. Like, fully, wholly enjoying… me.
He… Us… This… is almost unbelievable. Have I really found the one?