that familiar feeling
written: 9:48 p.m. on Sunday, Jul. 20, 2003

Normally, I would do an essay like this with fervour and enthusiasm.

Right now, I just want to think about something else.

**

Starbucks. The sweetness of caramel. My money on the table, and how you refuse to take it.

**

The same old jokes. Same old words. Same old tauntings, same old laughter.

Familiarity.

Somehow, it feels different.

**

It's amazing how the hours just fly by and while it was 12 noon then it is 5 p.m. now. Time to leave.

I don't want to.

I never want to.

**

Your shirt sleeve brushes against my bare skin.

A tingling sensation touches my bare skin.

**

Jay Chou has never sounded more melodious, despite the bad recording from radio to MP3.

I'm smiling while he sings directly into my ears.

And it's not just because of him.

**

I wonder if this would change anything, and what it would then mean for our relationship in school.

What about Mel?

Maybe I want to be with you every chance that I've got.

And I don't ever want to let you know.

**

You ask me for a movie. The same way you asked me to go to the funfair today.

"Ay, want to watch movie or not?"

I just knew it. What did I say a few months ago? I was right.

Do I want to watch a movie?

Do I fucking want to watch a movie? With you?

What do you think, you silly cow?

Do you even need to ask?

Of course I do.

**

Atheism and Catholicism is like oil and water. They don't mix. They can't mix. It's against nature.

But somehow, his deep faith in his God and his religion only makes him the more alluring.

Because I know, I just know, that I can trust him to be alone with him in his room and he wouldn't try anything.

And if he does, it's my fault.

**

Number 14 can go to hell.

**

Still, I wish you'd tell me how you really feel, because I hate being kept in the dark and I'm too dense to pick up on whatever it is you're trying to show me, or not show me.

I would stop being cryptic, if you'd make the first move.

And hopefully I wouldn't end up hurting you.

I would never want to do that.

**

Ben is right. He's tall, he's good-looking, he's funny, he's extremely nice to me, he's a dick that makes me laugh, he's an asshole that tickles my funny bones, and he plays basketball.

What more can I ask for?

I don't need a guy who writes poetry.

Oh wait... he does. He writes Chinese poetry.

His language is beautiful. Such profound sensitivity that he doesn't even show in speech.

Sometimes, I just want to hug him.

Other times, I just want to hold his hand.

**

When did this start? I don't know. I truly don't.

He was just a friend before. A friend I was mildly attracted to, I admit.

So perhaps that was the first and surest sign that The New Kid and I can't really be totally platonic.

And honestly, I don't want us to be platonic.

Not anymore.

**

I'm distracted from Literature, my only love.

I'm actually distracted from Literature, my only love.

You better make sure you're worth it.

**

Confession: I like you.

More than you can possibly imagine.

���������ǣ������ֲ��ſ�������

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010