I've not been able to sleep properly for days. Ever since Saturday night.
Saturday night I went dancing, and got lost in somebody across the dance floor and haven't been found yet. I fall asleep and I imagine his body and face and eyes. I wake up and am haunted by his body and face and eyes.
The man who I wrote about months ago - depressed, incapable of falling out of love with me - has managed to fall out of love with me. Or so it has been reported to me by a very good mutual friend of ours. And I'll believe her. And I will say that this frees me up to *ahem* pursue some of the *ahem* distractions that I see every now and then - and to do it in his presence, and to do so sparking his jealousy but not his sense of self-worth. Or so I hope.
So this man in whom I have been lost, I address you. When I next see you, prepare to be approached - because I need to find myself again, and it would seem that I can only do so by meeting you. Cause I'll be damned if I don't want to get to know you, and find out what it really means to get lost in your body and face and eyes.