[This post is dedicated to my Tiny, Lovely, Little, Beloved Squirrel.]She was young, small, and frag

[This post is dedicated to my Tiny, Lovely, Little, Beloved Squirrel.]She was young, small, and fragile. He was older, but breakable too.Daughter. Daddy. Together by chance.Very soon, he started to feel a great closeness to her. She had to pass though very bad experiences—as he did too, so many years earlier. It took him a whole life, to start living again. And he instinctively felt that his purpose was to help her, to make her feel better. Sure, she was such a cutie… but what he felt was far more deeper than just lust.He couldn’t help but think about her. He wanted to shield her against anything scaring and haunting—even though she was unlikely to understand how badly he wanted that. How could she trust another daddy, after what had already happened to her?She loved to feel small. He would have loved to hold her in his arms. He wanted her to lean on him—both physically and psychologically. Her frailties made her lovely. The scars on her mind dovetailed his own scars. He wanted to soothe hers. And, well, he also loved her smutty side, even though he didn’t know how to deal with it.For her, it was as if she had never had a father. For him, he was unlikely to ever become one. But this is not the reason why he needs her. And he often asks himself what she could need from him. Somebody who protects her, who cares for her. Somebody who loves her—not necessarily somebody she loves too, unfortunately.She grew up without a father. He grew up completely alone, amid so many people. He wanted to be the daddy she never had. He was kind, and felt the need to be open toward her. She was kind too, but she felt almost impossible to be close—to him and everybody else. It’s not possible—it’s not easy to trust people, after what she had to pass through. She needed love, she wanted love, after destructive experiences. He was more than willing to provide that to her, but… it all was so complicated.They were often on the same book, or a similar one. When it came to closeness, it was far more difficult. If she needed time, he would have done that. He was waiting since ever, after all. But so many times, when he didn’t hear from her for a while, he feared to miss her forever. He felt hopeless—while he only wanted to give her new hopes. He didn’t want to be alone, and he didn’t want her to be. He wanted to love her madly. And he’d rather see her happy without him, than hurting her.Other times, they were so different. She hated herself, where he just saw a lovely person. She was willing to be considered neck-down, while he enjoyed her soul so much. He loved her also neck-up. And whenever he felt tired, he needed her more, and became even sweeter. She always was—both tired and sweet. She said she was weak—he knew she was delicate, instead. He knew she needed new hopes, and he struggled to find a way to give them to her, to be a shoulder for her to lean on. After all, they had promised to stay friends forever.Time. Time. Time, again. And patience, so much patience. He had to bear with so many fears and feelings, if he wanted miracles to happen. If he had the forbearance and trust to turn them into reality.He felt alone—not because of her: because of all the other people. He felt alone since he was born, many years ago. And now, sometimes, he feels alone and missing her. Then, he usually writes to her with deep, unbridled love. And she kindly replies, trying to be close as she feels comfortable.Still, here they are. Daddy, Daughter. Together. Stuck together. Ideally hugging each other, in a way they know how. She was smaller, slightly lifted on the toes. Clinging and holding each other. Lovingly, he hoped.Most of those other people swirling around them are emotionless and indifferent. But Daddy really loves her so much. -- source link

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