aosid's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - an attempt: What I really wanted was to be able to talk about her. My old writing stands as a monument to the flowery exaggerations I can pin on strangers, but with her.. It's probably all tied to perfectionism and insecurity, which is a damn shame. I hate catching myself thinking that way, especially about her. She's among my oldest close friends, outstripped only by my cousin and one fine straggler from grade school. She was even my confidante back when the woman I think of as a sister was yet another dumb crush. It's been awhile. And there was always supposed to be a little something more between us, but it stayed secret and safe. That particular bit of silence should have driven me mad, if my other ventures are any indication, but there was a reassuring solidity to it. We slowly wandered hours and months apart, but when we happened to meet, it was simple and comfortable and a little sad but mostly nice, just like it always was. And then that something more finally happened, and that's where my words break down into flat adjectives. "Nice." "Right." The strangest part was how I still felt exactly the same about her - it was just acknowledgment of something that was always true. I cherish that certainty beyond words. 9:49 a.m. - 2013-03-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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