Wh?

Where does it start, and where does it stop? What should you do when you can't see the woods for the trees when you are quite happy looking at the trees? And how do you know what to do next?

He is no longer just a figment of my imagination; for some time he has been a living breathing body, living beside me, breathing beside me, completing a puzzle I didn't realise required a resolution. Does he fulfill my ego, or is he penetrating it? What will he do when he realises he has my heart?

Instinct drives me to despair, to a place where I am at his mercy, he is at mine, and we are at each others. Is it him that I like, or is it myself in him that I like? How far can you go with someone who pushes you in the way that you push them?

How much would you sacrifice for a journey of self-exploration? That is the real question. When I decided that nothing would be off limits with Him I don't think I realised what was beyond my self imposed limits, so yet again I find myself in sticky territory, longing to be alone and to have the space which that allows, yet simultaneously yearning to share that time with Him for nothing more than to clock up yet more magical hours spent with Him, as well as the periodic tender kiss onto my forehead that he is so fond of delivering.

As I commit pixels to monitor I'm immediately drawn to the backspace button - it's so much more than that. I don't know where this will stop, when it will stop, or if it should stop - my instinct is telling me that it will but does not allude to a reason. Is it me, is it him, is it us? I don't know, but I quiver at the thought of him, and the thought of more of him, and at the thought of more of us.

I know who he is now, he's the Magician.