Two inches away from me there is... his eyes, his face, his mouth. There is his hands on my lips, on my back, there are his words, "you're beautiful, I love you, I love you". And it's hard to believe that I, me paranoid of touch, me, paranoid of sexual abuse, me with my dissociation and my PTSD, had my tongue in his mouth, that I held his hand and was in his arms for hours when I was angry and he was there.
I've always thought this could never happen, it was something I expected only once everything else in my life got fixed, something I never expected in high school, so soon, now. I guess I'm almost sixteen, and everyone else is dating, but it's weird, to imagine me, that there is a boy who will kiss me if I want it, that somebody loves my body in that sort of... sexual way, which I can't imagine.
Wow. I'm still in shock that I've fallen in love somehow after all these years of all this abuse and anger and pain.
That must make me a miracle.
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