You don't have to say you love me...

So tell me, why am I doing this? I don't even seem to know.

There was a picture online that reminded me of him. Not "he" him, but some ideal state of him for me. You know, "him," that guy that I used to see when I was in my teens. Whenever I'd close my eyes, he'd be there and I would feel this warm glow radiating from my chest to my toes.

He was always just a shadowed figure passing in front of a spotlight. But I could fill in the image with my own collage of all that is right with man. Broad shoulders and a strong, masculine chest that I could bury my insecurities in. Brown or silver curly hair, I really couldn't tell. Eyes, green or hazel... maybe even blue. A hint of stubble around soft yet strong lips.

I would rebuild the image each time he'd come to me, but none were as perfect the real life that I'd not even seen yet.