Damn you. I love you.

I don’t know what to call this thing I have for you. I can’t find a word to fully describe it. There is a plethora of them; a mayhem of sorts. They surge and they collide until they form a chaos of adjectives that I sometimes do not understand.

You inspire me, and you tire me. You are irresistible and fearful and irresistible once again. You leave me in awe, and with apprehension. I want to kiss you and I want to shun you at the same time.

This mesmerising power you have over my senses is hateful. It’s beautifully hateful and it smalls me and diminishes me into dust. I hate it, and I love it. I hate you and I love you, and you scare me because you make me feel lost and confused, yet loved and enthused.

I hang on your every word like a child desperate for attention, and I analyse and scrutinise everything you say in futile attempts to stop feeling so enthralled by everything that you are. But I find myself sinking deeper and deeper into this alluring abyss of infatuation with your every thought.

Leave. Leave me alone; I don’t have the energy nor the health needed to keep up with this constant eruption of contraries. I am lost with you, and I will be lost without you, but at least then, I will not feel like crawling out of my skin just to see your smile.

Damn you. I love you. And damn you because I love you. And damn you for no reason at all.