100 feet away. He is only a hundred feet away. That's all the distance that I would need to cross to be in his arms, to be able to kiss him, to find the comfort that I am missing and to feel safe.

A hundred feet.

I have never wanted to move so much in my entire life.

He knows me. It has only been a few weeks and yet I feel it, He Knows Me.

He knows that when I'm unhappy I need to write, he knows that I believe in God for the small things not what they preach in church, he knows that I watch tv shows based on how attractive I find the cast.

Small stitches that make up the tapestry of me and he knows them.

So why can't I move? Why is it that I am rooted to the spot and just staring forlornly at him?

Because back home there's a guy. A guy I don't know, a guy who doesn't know me, who I feel so strongly for. Whose name I wake up with on my lips and fall asleep with in my dreams.

I don't have inside jokes with the guy back home. I don't have long conversations about life, god, the universe and batman with him.

But I have chemistry, the type that would burn down the laboratory.

And because of that, those 100 feet might as well be 1000000