Dear Melbourne boy,
I miss you. Or maybe I miss the idea of you, because you made me forget that I was broken and fucked up and that Gallus had ruined me. And it wasn't because you didn't know about the patchwork of tragedy and crap that makes up the terrain of my life, it was because you DIDN'T CARE about it.
I told you, I just laid it out on the table and you totally accepted it and me, warts and all.
You didn't care that I talk way too much- you thought I was smart and funny and interesting.
You didn't care that I couldn't have sex- you agreed given my history it probably wasn't a good idea and were happy just to hang out, hook up and sleep.
You didn't care that I have an anxiety disorder- I freaked out on you and you picked it, instantly and then you just talked me through it and reassured me and gave me a cuddle and stopped the panic attack in it's tracks.
Do you know that no-one has ever done that before? Nobody has just handled me as effortlessly as you did, in every possible way. Gallus knew me for 4 and a half YEARS and just freaked out when he saw me freak out, or refused to talk to me, which of course made things a thousand times worse.
But, the thing is, you live in Melbourne and I live in this shithole that I hate. And part of me really wants to text you and talk to you, but what's the point? I mean yes, I am planning to move there ANYWAY, but the thing is, that doesn't mean that you will actually want to take this any further.
Yes, we lived together for a week and it was freaking awesome.
Yes, I went to Melbourne and I saw you and it was still totally cool and you were happy to see me and I almost slept with you, coz I was just so damn relaxed.
BUT what does that really mean??
Yeah, I don't know either. Sigh
P.S I'm pretty sure it's actually you