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i might consider owning a cat one day

For. Ever. A. Baby.

Yesterday I almost kissed the boy of my dreams. I was literally an inch or so away from touching his lips with mine. He tucked my hair behind my ear, stroked my cheek with his hand, lifted my chin slowly, leaned in..
And I?
I turned away.
I hid my face, closed my eyes.
I can't do this, I can't. I can't. 

We were so close, his face right next to mine. I could feel his skin radiating it's warmth. I ran my fingers through his hair.
I can't.
I moved away, I sat up. I leaned against the window. I looked outside. It couldn't be more perfect. Soft faint music in the background. We were alone. He was ready. I was ready. It was supposed to happen. But it didn't.
There is no logical explanation for last night. I simply couldn't. So many things ran through my mind. Was it too soon? Was it okay? How did I get here? Why can't I do it? This should be easy. I'm shaking. 

The song ended for the second time. It's obviously not supposed to happen. 
He pressed play again. Damn it.
This is really happening. He really wants to. I really want to. Don't I? 

Cuddling wasn't a problem. Holding hands? Piece of cake. It was all natural. Easy. Meaningful, but easy. And yet, here I sat, next to the greatest thing since portable music. But I couldn't. I glanced at his face, he sat patiently taking in my rejection. I knew what he was thinking.

"It's not that I don't want to. Really, I want to. I'm just scared.. I guess."

He held my arm softly, rolled up the sleeve that had fallen down in my frustration.

"It's okay." 

No it wasn't. I moved in. Held his face, his hand reached up to hold mine too. Our noses touched, his eyelashes grazed my cheekbone as I moved to the side. The song began to reach the climax. If it was going to happen, it'd have to be now. Closer, we came in. I held my breath.. no. I dodged him and moved to the left. Burying my face into his arm. I muttered an apology that sounded so pathetic.

It's happened before. I little less pleasant though. That's how I lost my V.L. (yes, that does stand for Virgin Lips).  But this was different. He was different. He didn't force me to. Which I loved him for. But for the life of me I couldn't let him kiss me. It was too much. I was too scared. I looked out the window again and saw the silhouette of my mother looking at us.

 THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING. 

I apologized for the millionth time and said I had to go promising we'd talk later. I rushed inside and went straight to my room. I felt depressed. That was all I had ever wanted. For him to tuck my hair behind my ear. To hold my face, to pull me in. And I had ruined it. I was forever pathetic. Good things happened and I'd run away in a sprint. I was a coward. A chicken. A baby. And I could never take it back.

Unspoken Rules & Boys Sweaters

    I'm just assuming this, because I don't know, but I feel like there's some sort of unspoken rule about blogging more than once a day (or in this case night) that every social network has. Just like updating your facebook status or tweeting more - although tweeting could go either way- than once a day automatically makes you inferior to the rest of the world that seems to have more self control. But as so many before us have said, rules are meant to be broken, and whether this includes the unspoken rules I'm not entirely sure, and really don't care. I'm a rule breaker.
   This last week I ditched roughly 3 classes with a boy I've grown close too this summer. Which actually is much more dangerous and heart racing as you would think, considering my school this year has chosen to become incredibly over dramatic and take unnecessary lengths to make sure we all attend our scheduled classes. Which in turn has given me more motivation to not attend my classes and want to drop out of high school all together...  ANYWAYS; so this boy.
   Yes, this boy who may or may not be the reason for my frequent ditching (more likely not, and I'm not just saying that.. well maybe) has become a rather significant part of my life recently. We hung-out a lot in the summer, went on drives, shared secrets, blah, blah, blah, and suddenly I'm now wearing his Thrashers Magazine sweater to bed for the third night in a row.

   I barely even know that much about skating. But what I do know is that any chance I get I slip in this large, navy blue sweater and just think about him. Weird I know. Just the other day it seems like we drove together for the first time, and now I'm spending evenings in his basement having deep conversations about our parent's divorces and picking up Indian take out. Suddenly I'm resisting the urge to text him because I fear I'm being annoying or pushy where as before I just called him to talk without thinking twice.
   Now I'm wondering if I should put on more mascara before he picks me up where as before I'd answer the door in sweats. Regardless of what exactly I've been changing about my self, the fact of the matter is that I'm scared now. I'm scared to show my face for longer than 5 seconds because I'm self conscious. I'm scared I'm not capable of being myself when we're alone. I'm scared of what I'm changing into now that I know he likes me "that way". I'm scared I'm not smart enough to realize I like him "that way" too.. I've noticed now more than ever that things are much easier said than done. Which is really too bad; for a lot of reasons but I care too much about you to elaborate.
     Honestly, all I want to do is wear his sweater all the time, and be comfortable around his folks, and not have to worry about people thinking that we're making out and holding hands every 5 seconds. CAUSE I ASSURE YOU I'M NOT MATURE ENOUGH FOR THAT. Although I wouldn't mind trying. Bottom line, I just want this kid's sweater. I'll probably give it back to him so he can make it smell good again, but then it's mine.

Hello

    I fairly new at this and honestly a little scared. My best friend has a blog and would often show me some of her posts, from what I gathered it served as an electrical journal if you will, where you could post pictures, videos anything of real significance that people could read, blah, blah, blah. Whether it was entirely public or private, I wasn't completely sure, but still here I am writing my first post because quite frankly I'm incredibly bored/ secretly always wanted one.  Obviously I'm a little late for the "I have my own blog" trend because it seems that a substantial amount of my friend group has had a blog for quite some time. Which is not surprising in the least, I will admit I'm rather slow on the trending scale but nonetheless, here I am. And so begins my online journey of deep thoughts and secret feeling that I'm too scared to share with real people; so why not post them on the worldwide web? Amirite? Here we go.