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Always finding an abundance of people to feel some strange sense of electricity toward.
As much as I want to deny my desire to feel in love and to feel alive,
I always find myself here, in this moment, with you or someone new who makes me remember why people spend their lives searching for this useless emotion.

I could pander on and on about how she's different from the rest,
How she's unlike anyone I've ever dated before,
And to some degree, it would be true, sure,
But its far too soon to tell.

And she's about to go to Spain for two months, and experience things that could make her even more different than the girl I rolled with at her own house party.

I always seem to meet people in such terrible ways, and I find myself wondering,
Does Dennis actually have some validity in his notions on sleeping with people too soon?
Did we muck up the potential to be something beautiful, amazing, and out of this world,
Because we couldn't resist the temptation of seeing each other undressed, of feeling our bodies pressed together for a single night?

But it was more than that, wasn't it? To some degree?
Because the next morning neither of us shied away from one another's gaze, because we kissed each other, and asked when we would do it again, and even though there weren't any set plans, we both seemed intrigued and curious and hopeful of our next encounter.
We literally spent the day together, holding hands, laughing with each other,
Things that wouldn't come naturally or effortlessly unless we were both somewhat interested, right?

Who knows.
I do this to myself every single time, get way to excited and hopeful and invested,
And all I can do is wait.

I want to see you before you voyage to Spain,
I want to set some sort of solid possibility up,
But we both know you deserve to be single as you go, and I can't let my selfish ways dictate a trip you need to have.