current music: The Weepies - Somebody Loved


She's asleep on my couch. I took the blanket of Mom's bed, and wrapped her around it. She took it and quickly covered her face, curling into a little ball. She does that in bed, and this afternoon she's fighting off the effects of a drowsy, few-hours-of-sleep-last-night afternoon by giving in, and taking a cat nap. I've had to shoo away our cats from bothering the blob of yellow cloth on the couch. I've switched into house clothes from the street clothes I was in a while ago, writing this while she sleeps, while I wait for downloads to finish, while I watch her beautiful back rise and fall with her breath. Not so long ago, she was with my Mom and Dad over lunch. Just the night ago, she was introducing me to friends. Just a few days ago, we were alone on a Bolinao beach, her bright, tight, tanned body putting the setting sun to shame, my fingers entwined in her hand.

It's a quiet afternoon, and I'm writing to tell you all that I'm incredibly happy. It's times like this I realize it: I was wrong when I said I'd never feel this way again because I do now. I was wrong when I said I'd be miserable because of what I lost - by losing what I thought I had, something incredible arrived in my life in turn, and fills my days with new hope. I was wrong when I said I'd never find somebody, because, in a weird, weird way last February, that girl was the one who found me.

I really do love her, above and beyond what I thought ever possible. And these lines can barely show how grateful I am, for everything.