Feel this one.

A Kiss With A Fist

My mind likes you, but my heart is always wavering. You mentally fulfill everything I desire in a guy but you only minimally make my heart stir. What is it with us?

You hesitate to be in constant contact or close proximity with me when we’re out of school or when we’re in the company of others. Yet still have the cheek to drop hints and be so sweet to me. I’d think you were pulling my strings just for a thrill, but those moments when our friendship became passion makes me think twice. This back and forth motion since the first time I set my eyes on you, it’s driving me nuts. What is it with you?

Maybe it’s because I’ve become so bored and decided that you shall be where I deposit my feelings into. Maybe in my head I’ve played too many of those made up scenes that I conditioned my mind to love you, but all the while ignoring how much my heart would lag behind, fervently and blindly hoping that it would catch up soon enough. Maybe that really is where the problem lies - I’m only in love with the you in my head. What is it with me?

Emotional security, that is honestly all that I need. Dear God please let it be you.

Tess of the D’Urbervilles

” In the ill-judged execution of the well-judged plan of things the call seldom produces the comer, the man to love rarely coincides with the hour for loving. Nature does not often say ‘See!’ to her poor creature at a time when seeing can lead to happy doing; or reply ‘Here!’ to a body’s cry of ‘Where?’ till the hide-and-seek has become an irksome outworn game. We may wonder whether at the acme and summit of the human progress these anachronisms will become corrected by a finer intuition, a closer interaction of the social machinery than that which now jolts us round and along; but such completeness is not to be prophesised, or even conceived as possible. Enough that in the present case, as in millions, the two halves of an approximately perfect whole did not confront each other at the perfect moment; part and counterpart wandered independently about the earth in the stupidest manner for a while, till the late time came. Out of which maladroit delay sprang anxieties, disappointments, shocks, catastrophes — what was called a strange destiny. “

- Thomas Hardy, Tess of the d’Urbervilles

Chapter Five of Phase the First ”The Maiden”