Self-Consciousness

I seem to go through stages of highly strung self-consciousness about what I blog about and now I'm back to totally distancing myself from who reads my blog. I'm back to the feeling of throwing my thoughts into the vast unknown and feeling anonymous. It's nice to feel like this is just a story of some fictional character that doesn't really exist. Every entry is just an exercise in creative writing and nothing more. And there is absolutely no connection between the events and characters of this story and real life. Ahh...

I was at work today and just as I walked out of the toilets, I saw a guy my age walking towards me. He kept staring so I smiled slightly (you know, the smile you force with your lips while your eyes are still totally neutral). Quickly imagined that if I didn't have David I would probably be fantasising about seeing him again and something developing. That image was quickly replaced by imagining seeing David instead of the guy. That put a smile on my face.

David David David.

Cannot get him out of my head. Everything just keeps playing over and over. I wish I could catch the memories of all those moments that made me feel so happy and content and warm in the palm of my hand, put them in a box and enjoy them any time I wanted to.

[Stop reading now if you plan on being cynical about mushy and sentimental stuff.]

David touched my face. I moved back his hand.
David: what's wrong?
me: uhm... I have a pimple there
David [laughs, hugging me tighter]: I like you with your pimples

If that's not a sweet thing, I don't know what is. I can be a pretty self-conscious person so it relaxes me so much when he says things like that, like he couldn't care less about the things that I worry so much about.

Last night as I was chatting to April, just started missing him. Felt physical discomfort. Called him and felt much better. I love how when I call, he always sounds so excited to hear from me, like we haven't spoken for ages.