i can wait but i can't wait.

i hop on the thought that i am with my first many things, if not every. the first that i brought home, the first that made me do all those sweet thingys, and did those things with me, the first that realised many of my fairy-tale like fantasies, and the first that i thrust myself on and trusted enough to have ventures with.

i spent a certain amount of time crawling to that lovesickness. it was a massacre i performed on all those butterflies in my stomach. today i have finally regained my senses and energy and become my old self. it is an everyday thing to me missing someone. for some odd reasons i always have someone to think of and about. the other night it struck me that it has been a long time since i last saw my father, and of course that became the night in which he was terribly missed. at one point you keep being reminded of the fact that there are people whom you can't find a way back to in this lively world among all earthly matters.

i think i always go a bit farther. it is how my life, my personality and my attitudes have been shaped. i heard that many girls have their personalities formed based on their first loves. i did not happen to me that way. i have had my most things formed long before i could say i had been close enough to a boy. my first love (despite the million crushes i had before it) came quite late i must say.

but when he said he liked me i felt like i loved him, i freaked out for the departure before the journey had even started, when he held my hand i was all up for getting married, and when he kissed me i was already thinking about babies. i am always few pages ahead of him. life is too short, i can wait but i can't wait, when he realised that he was in love with me i felt like i had already spent centuries falling for him.

but of course i try to behave more like a normal person who progresses with a reasonable pace, taking things step by step and day to day, trying to say "i like you" instead of "i love you" and making myself promise not to write loveletters and poems and at least not to get them delivered unless enough days have been waited or there happens to be a special occasion.

maybe i truly am odd, i hate having to behave like normal. i was born to feel this much and to act, and to react.

anyways, signs of maturity equal having thought about the consequences before your actions and having thought about your actions in the shoes of the other person/other people involved.