Obama T-Shirt

He bought me a gift. Why the heck...what the heck...oh my heck. He is killing me. I don't care if it's wrong, how wrong it is, on what levels it's wrong, I will have him. He will be all mine. "These words, 'You will be mine'" (REM, Strange Currencies) I love him, need him, want him all the time. His face has become my favorite sight, and I cannot get enough of it. I love touching his body with my eyes, caressing every nook and cranny, and making inventory of all my favorite places. Scars and hair and smells and imperfections that are perfection.

I know there's doubts that he and I could ever have trust because of the cheating that created our situation. But I can't help but trust the feeling that I am the one for him, and he is the absolute one for me. I've never felt this strongly about anything. He won't stray from me because I will be everything for him: sex, love, homemaker, boss, slave, crazy, adjusted, beautiful, ugly...and he will just be himself, and I will love it. I will love him. And continue to do so until we get tired of it or die.

And we will have a child or two, and they will be beautiful and exceptional, and contain the best parts of us. We won't be rich in money, but we will be rich in family and love. We'll be comfortable because of this. And every day that I get to continue looking into that face, lost in his dark, muddy eyes, I will be happy and know that my life is what it should be. I am with the one I love, and he loves me.

All of this because he bought me a t-shirt. I'm nuts. But I love him.