a tale of magic and hope

I don't know why this confuses me but I feel awfully confused. We all know my raging and unhealthy obsession over fittie is rife. I just think he's fantastic. Hilarious and nice and all of these adjectives people use to describe people they fancy. But it's strange, and it sounds gay to say it, but I've always felt in my obsessed and unhealthy mind like there was some kind of wavelength thing going on here. So different but somehow he seems to get me and I think in a way I get him too. He was guidance when I was unsure what the fuck I was doing in my job, and maybe that's the basis of all this, but I'm not unsure anymore and I still feel weird every time he walks past.

I feel like I want to write a book about this just so I get to dwell on it.

Anyway, he wanted to see some of my writing. I didn't have anything accessible so told him to give me a subject and I'd write him something. (Yes, Pixie, that old chestnut!) He said, "A 12 year old Latvian forced to join a travelling circus. It's a comedy".

Now really.

So I wrote him a story, and named the 12 year old Latvian after him, and filled it with references to a book by an anonymous author that I'm convinced Fittie wrote and mentions of work stuff. I sent it to him and he liked it, amazingly, and said he wanted to turn it into some kind of relay thing.

Now, he's written me things before, always fantastic and imaginative but not exactly the norm when it comes to writing stories or poetry. I've loved them all and have always been impressed, but thought in this story writing experience he'd have the ideas and I'd have the sentence structure. (haha I know).

He stayed late at work last night and wrote his chapter and sent it to my personal email address. "A tale of magic and hope by Serena May and Josh Lover".

I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought maybe he had stolen it from somewhere but seriously, where would he miraculously find a piece of writing about a 12 year old Latvian who has just killed everyone in the circus. He projects this image of being a bit of a sports jock type, a ladies man with a conscience, he scratches his head and feigns confusion with everyone else at work but he's so sharp and quietly takes on the world and wins when nobody is looking. He's mysterious and the more I learn about him, the better he gets, even with all the flaws and rough edges and failings.

The chapter he sent me was amazing. Truly, utterly amazing. He describes the landscape like he could touch it, like he was standing there. He uses the most incredible phrasing, words that don't seem to go together get married up. I was wowed, amazed, impressed. I feel like I'm in awe of him now, whereas before I could deal with the fact that he was the extreme of all of these things. I'm trying to kick a pedestal from under him but there isn't one, because every time I get over the fact he's amazing in one way he does something else that blows my mind.

I really don't know. I'm going to get some balls though. I'm going to tell him how amazing this is, and leave out the bit about the unhealthy obsession, and see how freaked out he gets. Maybe it's better that it goes back to him forgetting I exist and me getting on with my life.

He's still moving to Mexico in December though. Fucks sake!

The hot guy at work wants to see some of my writing.

I'm shit!

Oh god :(