Twitterpated X infinity

I was right.

My memory, that is.

He's still ridiculously handsome... if not more.

How can one person be so irresistibly adorable?

There was one problem with his looks though: the moment I saw him, I turned into a clam.

I swear to god I tried talking. I swear, I swear... but my brain was so fucking frozen... with that ridiculous smile of mine plastered across my face.

Motherfucking Bambi when he finally gets "twitterpated." That was me.

Yep. I definitely have never felt this with anyone else. Stunning. Lo mas lindo.

I was deaf, mute... shit, probably even blind for a minute.

If I could draw what was going on in my head, it would just be a bunch of "O"s... because I can't draw sighs.

Someone should bottle this up, and use it as a weapon of mass destruction. Unleash it on your enemies and render them useless... left completely still... like deer caught in headlights... then just bayonet them to death, because they'll be THAT immobilized.

My brain was screaming "talk!" but I was just... all I needed to do was drool.

I was stupid.

A pathetic sight, I was.

I deserve to get slapped, really, I do.

...

But that smile... those eyes... so wonderfully enchanting. (Suddenly, I feel like Helga on "Hey, Arnold!")

And his voice! Oh my god, his voice! It was like "Holy shit! I was just talking about this the other day!"

Oh... the smile. Definitely his most gorgeous attribute. My favorite.

I still feel lightheaded when I think about it. The mere thought of the sound would make me smile to myself at random times of the day yesterday, and even today.

It's all like a hazy dream. Just like everything in my life that is remotely pleasant, it gets stored as a hazy memory... which will always make me question whether it really happened.

He is so fucking perfect.

He is so hilarious.

He is so smart (even while intoxicated! I mean... come on!). 

He is so sweet.

I had never really dealt with the sweet side of Darcy, at least not in person. Then on Saturday, as I was whining to him about my failure, he--in a very cute... distinctly Darcy fashion-- consoled me. He told me a story, and I stood there, sheepishly wondering why there weren't any rocks near my feet to coyly kick around (ignoring the fact that I was standing in a garage, and all...).

Ahhhhh, shuuuuucks. You're the fucking cutest!

All of this... and I still act as if he's made of fire.

I made it my motherfucking mission to keep a distance... because I'm an idiot.

Seriously, someone needs to slap me.

This was all such a crazy-ass dream.