teeth dreams=a loss of control

everything is in transition and instead of being frisky, i am in a fucking bad mood. i blame my horrid lack of sleep over the last few days; i've been up since 3 this morning, dazed and useless and irritable, like being uselessly jetlagged in a place i've always wanted to visit.
yesterday i went up to marysville to see (the new) t. he lives in a house with wooden floors and plants and a ratty piano that holds his paintings and sculptures and a bowl of antique marbles. the kitchen has yellow '50's-boomerang formica counters and a corner sink surrounded by windows. he has a fucking file cabinet of catalogued ephemera- tintypes from the 1800s, 50's porn, old greeting cards- the shit i thought i was the only one who collected. i walked around his lair and thought to myself "i have met my fucking match." and it was clean, too.
we went to thrift stores and drove around everett. the day was warm and i held my arms out of the sunroof. i saw where his grandparents used to live, where he fell off playground equipment and landed flat on his back, the field he used to cut through to buy crap at the corner store. i felt a weird ease. that is an oxymoron. i also felt like i had to keep looking at him so i wouldn't forget what he looks like. it was a rather drugged feeling.
back at his lair, listening to 'the last waltz', smoking a bowl, him starting to inch closer, asking if my hair was always this curly, what my tattoos mean, all the silly lines that every guy uses, the ones that i love and adore and answer with naive earnestness, all the while quietly thinking "oh fuck, what's next..." and stuporously fretting that my tooth was broken- i was seriously concerned, in that comical pothead way, and kept biting my nails as a way of making sure it was still there. (it was and is. sometimes marijuana is just annoying.) i really fucking like this guy already. he asked if he could, i said "well, yeah" and we kissed. i was more ribald than i expected. so was he. he felt fucking wonderful.
but i couldn't stop my fucking brain. i thought of s. it had been about a month and a half since i'd kissed him, and that was what i remembered- akin to the way i stood on my toes automatically after kissing anyone who wasn't (my ex) t (6'3). i thought: i wish i wasn't high. i wish i was naked. i wish we had years of history and didn't have to do this awkward learn-how-to-kiss silliness. i wish i didn;t have to drive back to seattle and get up early and go to work and only get these brief glimpses of greatness instead of having it be my daylong reality. and i didn;t want to want it more than he did- that's the fucking worst feeling in the world.
i don't think that was a problem, but today, tired and paranoid and generally cantankerous, i get to dwell on my bullshit more. and i am reminded of how much i need and fucking crave that sort of feeling- the feeling of being with someone, touching them, exchanging ideas and experiences. and i really love making out.

blah blah blah.

people should have to EARN being missed when they're not around. i don't know if i qualify for that yet. i don't really know if he does either. but i want to know more. does that count?
this is the same girlish fuckery that i have nerdily written of before. every time it's SO TOTALLY NEW AND STUFF, and every time things evolve in similar ways. i am still a fucking teenager thinking that every moment is the cataclysmic end-all and each regurgitated revelation is so FUCKING GODDAMN IMPORTANT. what a wad o' shite.
i really fucking need to sleep, and not post this.