Wild adventures.

Rules of Adventuring:

1. Go somewhere you don't know.

2. Take lots of pictures.

 

I just want him to know me.

I want him to KNOW me, everyone. I want him to not just know me but try to know EVERYTHING about me, because isn't that just one of those romantic ideas? The boy that you didn't know, that tries to know everything about you just because he can? There's a lot to know about me, even though I don't always think so. He can know how my shoulder blades stick out; how I can actually grab someone's hand with my shoulder blades intentionally. I want him to know this, and not just because it's practically my signature trick. I want him to know every song on the playlist I listen to almost every night, and I want him to know why that song is on there. I really want this, people. I want him to know the significance of the song "Tiny Dancer" by Elton John and why it almost moves me to tears. I want him to know why I love owls so much, and I want him to know the first owl I ever loved. I want him to know not just the one pair of shoes that I wear every day, but all my pairs. I want him to know Psych like I do. I want him to know why I stayed in Ballet, and why I'm in Musical Theater, and why I'm going to try out for Dance Company next year. I want him to know all the places to take me when I'm in all the moods I have. I want him to know what I believe, and why, and how I feel about God and how I feel about the Holocaust. I want him to know how long I've had my same teddy bear and I want him to know how I snuggle down with it every night. I want him to know the smell of Caramel Machiatto on my breath, the smell of my shampoo in my thin, thin hair. I want him to know how I feel about my height. I want him to know me, but mostly I want him to want to know me.

Look, I know where I stand with people. I know where I stand with him. It's getting better, sure, but we don't have nearly enough time for all the knowledge I want him to have. I know that I tend to grab onto things with both hands too fast. I know that I tend to jump into shallow waters head first and maybe that's why I keep ending up broken. But it's so hard to not just jump in when you can already feel yourself slipping, you know? And boy, am I slipping and sliding all over the place, and I don't know how long I can last before I just take the dive and hope the water's deep enough that I won't get hurt right off the bat. But I guess it's still too early to tell.

love always, laura elizabeth.