the lines multiply. the lines blur.

Ive tried stringing these things I think together, but I find I leave myself disappointed. The words I write never seem to portray the whole truth as it breaks me. They're lacking like me. And then when I speak to you, the desire to maintain my dignity is overshadowed by my desire to tell you how much you mean to me despite the obstacles, the irony, and the obvious, my fear that while I feel things for you I deem unnatural, my inability to put them into words haunts me with worry that you won't recognize the feelings I cannot seem to express.
I know you need them, that your desire is nauseating from the secrets you keep from me. I tell you everything in hopes that one day, maybe today you could in turn share your life story with me. I want to hear everything. The little boy's first time on a swing, the first battle wound, the first heartbreak. I want to know how you felt about the night I told you something I can never take back, but I don't want to regret it.
I know right now, this isn't enough. And maybe I'll never be enough, what I say to you will always fall short of your expectations and I'm not as beautiful as the girl of your dreams- my eyes aren't blue enough and my hair won't stay straight and sometimes I say things I don't mean and I ramble and my head is full of jumbled thoughts and all the wrong lyrics and my sentences are long. and I never learned when to properly use the word et cetera. (Haha.) But I want you to know, that when it comes to feelings like these as someone I would enjoy centering a decent amount of my mind and time on, you are not just enough, you are perfect.