Truth be told, I go that way on the off chance that I may see him again. I do. There are other paths to take. I have every opportunity to choose an alternate route. Yet, I go back. For what? The thrill? Curiosity? Pure stupidity? Probably all of the above.
I know how seeing him affects me. I don't come off that "high" for hours. And I'm paranoid that he's everywhere for days... even weeks or months. The moment my eyes find him, my heart stops, my blood runs cold, the shot of panic that hits my body renders me nearly paralyzed. And the words that come out of my mouth... oh, my mom would not be proud.
I've seen him three times... well, that's not true. I've seen him twice, only heard him the other time. Today was our closest encounter. He didn't make me listen this time, but he did notice that I had seen him. He ran away like a little girl. Yet, I'm the one running home to tell everyone about him. Go figure.
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1 comment:
What are you talking about here?
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