Mornings of paranoia and sudden conscious smiles.
Jubilant when you get little niches to dive in for secure unwatched blushing. Almost wading with the mainstream current and nodding furiously because I hardly even can hear what is being spoken. It is not awe, trust me. It is true love progressing through various stages of all three components: intimacy, passion and committment, except that all this is not mutual and is a fragment of my white board only. Gosh, he is here again, skin swelling and expressions as fluid as flagellum suddenly crystallized. Fake jubilant smile again. Agent M, all clear sir!(What am I, Lizzy Mcguire or some pink shoe? Slap me someone!) Then gradually the shutter fly releases little clothbags of of exalt, all buttoned up. Again radar sense proximity. Please tell me, what is this unidentified walking microphone doing to me since four years, off and on? Then, the villain, all pink bubble gum and agent is all tight again. Victim of inside jokes, heart fluttering like a shaken aspen leaf. Remind oneself, silence is golden. Act grumpy. Don't think of demanding attention...
