I remember the first time I told her. It had been bubbling under the surface for some time. It was like a volcano. Sometimes it was threatening to erupt but at the last minute it would cool off and go back to the quiet simmering. But every time it almost came out it left an even stronger urge in me to finally say it ‘when the time was right’. It was a slow, deliberate and highly torturous build up. It just kept going and going for what seemed at the time like an eternity.

I knew she felt the same way. Well, maybe I didn’t fully know it but I highly suspected it. I hoped for it. If she had told me sooner it would have just come out of me in a flood of emotions. Instead both of us held back and seemed to tiptoe around it for a while. The longer it went on the more it made the consequences of saying it and not getting it in return seem too scary. But then, maybe that was part of the excitement. The dealing with the anticipation and the possibility of crashing and burning because of something so pure has a certain painful attraction to it.

In the end all fears were unwarranted. I remember my heart beating against my ribcage like it wanted to break out and scream it for me. My mouth was dry and I felt hot and cold all at the same time. I’m not sure what finally pushed me over the line but the look on her face when she heard me say it made all the waiting for it worthwhile. I could have told her in a letter or some other way which would have been much easier on me. I didn’t, because I knew she needed me to say it. After all that sweet torture I finally did!

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(Source: cristania, via salacious-musings)