I am irrevocably drawn to everything that you are. It worries me deeply, yet it coats every thought in a generous hue, a potential promise of something beautiful. Every word I add alarms my paranoia, that I am too much and should not feel the way I do. That each word is further pushing me away from you. How little I relate to sanity when words raise a dramatic voice over everything I choose to let out. I am not in love, but I cannot say I have ever felt this way about anyone before. And I will keep this and all of whatever more I have to say, solely to myself, in an attempt to keep any future from falling into ruins.