cigarettes ☹ alex turner

X

"HEAL HER ALEXANDER. Heal her," had seemed to be the only combination of words that never, ever left my brain. I wanted to know why, I wanted to understand.

I tried to figure out how could Alex possibly 'heal' me, when there was nothing to heal?

I was completely fine, other than my never ending disability to not sleep and have boundless panic attacks.

I don't even think Alex understood what he meant either; I certainly didn't, but you would expect the poet to understand hidden meanings, especially from him.

Also, it wasn't as though I could just walk up to him and say 'Hey, remember that time when you said that, what the fuck did you mean?'

The majority of my days were spent wondering about what was to happen in the future; I mean, how could I not? Everything us as humans are going to experience, will forever be a mystery.

Especially in my case, being a naturally curious person doesn't help in this situation at all. It was almost as if whatever you wondered about, just ate you alive and never seemed to leave your mind. It wasn't the best thing to experience either.

Sir Bloomsbury approved of all intimate actions, which we shared as well which didn't fail to leave me forever yearning with curiosity.

What did this mean for Alex and I? It was the main barrier of our relationship to go any further, and now, that it was no longer existent, do we run into each other's arms?

We hadn't even talked about that. We hadn't talked at all to be honest. As to why was vaguely unknown, but still slightly known.

To add to the lovely mix of deep curiosity, the feelings of affection towards Alex hadn't become any less fond. I wanted to do all sorts to him, to be completely honest.

Who wouldn't?

His beauty itself was so hard to comprehend and accept. The way his hair was presented and looked was too breathtaking for me; it was a slightly dark brown, which was frequently styled in a quiff.

We were both around the same height, only about ten centimetres of a difference, which wasn't like your typical small girl big boy kind of stereotyped relationship.

His legs were long and slim, forever looking amazing.

I don't know why he meant so much even though I didn't know him that well. Whether it was because he was so, so beautiful or I was just blinded by his choice of words, I don't know. I felt like I already knew him.

I was going to do something, which was brave. Me? Brave? It doesn't even make sense to me in my head. I don't know, I really don't even know, but I had to do this, more than I had to kiss Alex.

It was such a significant necessity, Alex was. He made me everything I was and wasn't. That didn't even make sense; nothing did, absolutely nothing. One thing that did was that I didn't want what he made me feel to stop.

My mind was worse than a jumbled mess; now more than ever. Yes, we have talked before, yet that doesn't take away the amount of nervousness and urgency that is building up within me.

It was opposing to our other conversations; this time I was going up to him whilst knowing that I was doing so. Our other encounters were all accidental.

There were millions of questions that needed to be asked and answered in order for curiosity to fail in eating me alive; it was a fact.

Richard didn't know the specifics, but he knew I was going to see Alex; he could tell. I wasn't shocked of that, though. He's Richard for goodness' sake.