Fuzz

I feel fuzzy. I’ve never liked a guy like him before, but it’s exactly like everything else. Just as fuzzy.
...
You still sigh when you think about him. You see him and your heart speeds up. You’re afraid of anyone knowing, especially him. All of these things... This is love.

It’s a feeling in your chest... Somewhere between your heart and your stomach. You know it’s there when your heart skips and your stomach churns. You get that giggly feeling but suppress it for fear of actually giggling. You blush, you tremble, you twirl your hair.

You bite your lip, thinking. Your eyes just want a glimpse of him, your hands just want to brush by him, you just want him, nothing but him, and you'll be happy forever.
...
He has no idea, and I'll never tell him. Since this could never happen and I've denied it all for a week... well, I finally accepted it and look at me. Poetic and fuzzy. Oh, the shame. Hit me when you see me next, don't even ask about because I'll probably tell you nothing.

PS. This is the meltdown post I was talking about.

Don't say I didn't tell you, because I did.