You’re torture in the very best of ways. I can’t explain it. Seeing you is just… magic. Every single time. No matter how many days span between the last time and just then. You and those stupid camo shorts and those t-shirts that I think you wear for the sheer thrill of shocking people. Maybe you’re not the type of thing that is worth getting over. Maybe I’m just meant to linger with you, even if it stays right here. You make me too happy for this to be a mistake; for this to be nothing.

Just to help people understand, it feels something like dancing even when we’re standing still. There’s some sort of music in my head, even in our silence. It’s nonsense and it’s absolutely beautiful.

Actually, this song describes it quite well: