Us. The moment I met you, your name was imprinted on my skin. It was like a small scar. I could hide it, and no one would know what you did to me. No one would know about the impression you made on me. Our first conversation felt like a breath of fresh air. Like I was coming up out of the water, my lonely desperation spraying you as I heaved. I jumped at the chance to be your friend--acquaintance--distant companion. I don't know why. Maybe it's because of the marks you left on my skin. As we grew together, from distant companionship to closer than friends, the imprint turned into an inked tattoo. It blossomed so fiercely I didn't know whether or not to be embarrassed and hide it, or to sport it around with a high chin, and swayed hips. I studied you when you weren't looking. I searched to see if you had the same marks as I. To see if I made an impression. But your skin was smooth. Flawless. Left untouched. And then one day, I cracked. I came out to you....
Authenticity is attractive.