He has the same color hair that I do. His is a little lighter than mine. Sometimes his eyes are green, sometimes they are blue, and sometimes they are swimming in aquamarine. He has a cute little shit eating grin that melts me. I know he loves me. At least I think he does. God I hope he does. I was his first. My drunk uncle told me that it was special. That he'd lie, cheat and kill for me. I just want him to stick in there while I fall apart. I am scared of commitment. I push people away. I don't mean to, but this thing creeps up in my head and before you know it, I'm running for the hills. He makes me smile and feel safe in a way that I haven't felt in a long way. I have visions of tearing his bulletproof vest off and molesting him. I think he'd like that. I've pictured us together forever, and it isn't a bad image. Us together, getting married, him carrying me around like he loves to do. Us laughing or laying in bed together, me tracing his face and running my fingers through his hair. I think I love him. God I hope I do. I hope he knows how amazing I think he is. He's a man. A real man, as opposed to one trying to fool himself. I look up to him. I want this to work, I really really do. I just have to chain my demons in the basement and tell them to fuck off from time to time.

I think I'm just scared of how he makes me feel.

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