I haven’t been soppy in quite a while, so here goes with an attempt at it, because I am writing this in bed since we’ve slept late. We haven’t gone down to fix breakfast yet, because someone is still sleeping even though it’s nearly noon.
You have to remember how unusual that is, because of us two, Mark is the one that jumps out of bed at six in the morning, while yours truly has to be dragged kicking and screaming into an awake state if it’s before ten o’clock.
I can’t say we have a reason for this late-blooming today because we stayed home yesterday, and didn’t go out to celebrate the new two-week holidays with the ones who were heading for alcohol induced mental oblivion. Not that we usually do that anyway, but we could, and we didn’t.
We did stay up until two am to finish a film we watched, and Mark has – unlike me – been sort of stressed at school. So, I suppose that he needed the rest, poor dear, and that allows me to sit here in bed and creep on him by watching him sleep.
And you know what? If I stood up, I’m sure I’d have to sit down, because he is really beautiful when he sleeps. His hair is all banged up, spread all over the pillow, and I just want to reach out and touch his skin. But that would wake him up, so I won’t. I’ve decided to let him sleep for now. That way I can continue to sit here and feel warm and skittish inside, and I can continue to creep on him by watching him sleep.
It’s incredible how you can love someone so much. It really is. I think I’m going to split in two. And it’s incredible that after a year and a half, it hasn’t settled into some kind of routine thing. I think it’s even stronger now than before. Is that even possible? Is that healthy?