What to do?

I was never much of an overthinker. 

In my day to day, I have always prided myself in my unwavering confidence, my practicality with this subject but I realize that there are exceptions to these rules of mine. You’re one of them and so are Sunday nights. 

On Sundays, I make up for all the time that I don’t overthink whilst being conscious, although I do find myself doing this more and more often, as you just won’t leave my head. It’s become something of a habit: staying up for almost the entire night, dreaming awake and remembering, wishing, reflecting.

 

I can’t really sleep on Sundays or the nights before seeing each other (my subconscious believes that the hours will go by sooner, this way) or whenever I miss you too much. 

I toss and turn and bury deep in the covers or I’ll throw them off frustratedly because I’d much rather have you wrapped around me. 

I look at the moon and wonder whether you’re also up, what you’re thinking of, whether you’ve texted me yet. I have to fight the urge to unlock my phone to find out, if only to increase the chances of falling asleep again.

I count the petals of your flowers instead of counting sheep, caressing them gently, to try to slow down the hurricane of feelings inside me. A job you could do with the softest of touches, with a hug or a twist of my hair. 

 

As I write, I’m uncovering new exceptions in my faltering self-control. You’re almost constantly, on my mind.

I think about all that we can’t have, the things we need: I from you and you from me, on what I could’ve done better, what I never should have done and all that couldn’t or shouldn’t, be helped. 

I was so tired of faking and ignoring my body’s desires, my heart’s cravings, that’s my excuse. I’m caught under this wave, unsure of how to act but unable to go on without you. 

I needed you to know, somehow, I had to make you understand and now that you say you do, I can finally breathe. 

There’s a lightness in my step that wasn’t there before. I’m getting better, even though the responsibility is also greater and we still don’t know what anything means. It could go down horribly… Or not. I wish the correct option wasn’t such a difficult decision. 

I can only hope, despair, wait, pray?

I was never much of an overthinker. 

In my day to day, I have always prided myself in my unwavering confidence, my practicality with this subject but I realize that there are exceptions to these rules of mine. You’re one of them and so are Sunday nights. 

On Sundays, I make up for all the time that I don’t overthink whilst being conscious, although I do find myself doing this more and more often, as you just won’t leave my head. It’s become something of a habit: staying up for almost the entire night, dreaming awake and remembering, wishing, reflecting.

I can’t really sleep on Sundays or the nights before seeing each other (my subconscious believes that the hours will go by sooner, this way) or whenever I miss you too much. 

I toss and turn and bury deep in the covers or I’ll throw them off frustratedly because I’d much rather have you wrapped around me. 

I look at the moon and wonder whether you’re also up, what you’re thinking of, whether you’ve texted me yet. I have to fight the urge to unlock my phone to find out, if only to increase the chances of falling asleep again.

I count the petals of your flowers instead of counting sheep, caressing them gently, to try to slow down the hurricane of feelings inside of me. A job you could do with the softest of touches, with a hug or a twist of my hair. 

I’m uncovering new exceptions in my faltering self-control, as I write. You’re almost constantly, on my mind.

I think about all that we can’t have, the things we need: I from you and you from me, on what I could’ve done better, what I never should have done and all that couldn’t or shouldn’t, be helped. 

I was so tired of faking and ignoring my body’s desires, my heart’s cravings. That's become my excuse. I’m caught under this wave, unsure of how to act but unable to go on without it, what we have. 

I needed you to know, somehow, I had to make you understand and now that you say you do, I can finally breathe in deep. 

There’s a lightness in my step that wasn’t there before. I’m getting better, even though the responsibility is also greater and we still have no idea what anything means.

It could go down horribly… Or not. I wish the correct option (is there one?) wasn’t such a difficult decision. 

I can only hope, despair, wait, pray?