Sitting in the shower I realised.
I was never really in love with Andrew. Of course, I didn't know it at the time. Three years. Three years of saying I love you and I had no idea what it really meant .
And now, I do. thank you Ethan, for such a gift really has no name.
I am sick, ladies and gentlemen. Sick to my stomach in love. It's been six months now. Maybe it's all of this valentines day bullshit, or maybe, just maybe... it's because I have something truly fucking exceptional.
Hours of my day spent in daydreams and impatiently I wait to see his smiling, secret, densely filled eyes of brown. They haunt me everywhere.
The darker part of my mind always conjures up some hateful whisper, a reminder, that things may not be as good as they seem on the surface. My cynical, worrisome nature rearing it's ugly head. Blood stained teeth grinning at me, some cruel private joke I care not to remember.
We ARE in love. And you know what that means? That my shadow will have no choice but to bite the bullets I'm slinging at him point blank range.
Let's hope I remember my target practice.