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When You Ask Me What I’m Thinking About


By Dakota Love DanglerPublished 2 months ago 3 min read

I —

I love you so much it hurts. Sometimes I get too emotional and work to wipe the thoughts and feelings from my brain. A hard reset because we all know remembering is my first death.

I stop myself from embarrassing myself in front of you more times than not. Sometimes I get these huge bursts of how you make me feel without a warning and it is so laborious to keep it locked inside myself, but it is even harder to share. Worst of all, every varied assemblance I find embarrassingly inadequate. Inadequate, no, far worse. Too simplistic, too plain; vague even. I begin tripping over structure, vocabulary, word choice. Elaborating is mortifying and would not substantiate; would not acquit.

I feel I have already entered an alternate universe because there is absolutely no way this kind of feeling, this kind of orbit can exist in this one. This is how I know I am alive; that life is worth it all just for this all consuming feeling, however dramatic it sounds. The feelings are so extreme and also so uncharacteristic of me, yet are perfectly sensical that I feel insane saying them. Mostly I feel you may not feel the same or may judge me for feeling so profoundly. When it hits me how much I love you, I feel an immense pang in my chest and the tears welling in my eyes and you are everything and the worst part is I do not even know if you know it; if I make sure you feel it.

And I feel even more pain. Anguish. I do not want you to ever know because relinquishing that power is something I know I can never recover from. I never wanted to feel so strongly about someone that I could cry at the drop of a dime, but here I am crying over stupid, yet weighted words because I fear vulnerability so much I dash into the shadows, press my back flat against the cool wall and bite my tongue ten times out of ten, hoping you cannot hear me holding my breath because you will never believe that everything I do and everything I do not speak aloud eats me alive from inside out. The trace only visible to me. A parasite with an unforgiving name.

Do you know that pain, that delicious pain with such depth of flavor that savoring would never be enough? I imagine it is what religion must feel like to devoted worshippers. For you I am a believer. This has to be the light that people think the heavenly see before ascension. But by god this elaborate, decadent abyss has to be what they all failed to describe. Pain so great and so glorious I may have to pay thanks to all those I once laughed at. This is the only religion I will accept, the only thing I will sacrifice and die for. Yes, I have thought it through countless times and I will die for you and for love should I need to. Reverence is the least of what is required. That splintering white light blasting my conscience.

I almost sent this to you and looked a fool. I almost forgot my place and thought a name like mine with a message containing contents like this could be in your inbox at twenty past two in the morning, two hours after you fell asleep thinking of how she was the last who called you hot. Subconsciously entering your dreams. She left the last impression on you, all because of what I could not.

SecretsTeenage yearsStream of ConsciousnessDating

About the Creator

Dakota Love Dangler

Because it's easier to write my thoughts than speak them.

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