My life has become the most beautiful, amazing, magnificently blissful place in existance.

About seven months ago, I'd finally gotten my head around the dynamics in my school peer group enough to know who to spend time with, and when, to keep myself - and my friends - happy for as much of the time as possible.  I'd finally worked out all these people, and understood them, and cared about them, and balanced the emotions and power and rumours so that it worked real nice.
Then, some new kid showed up... you know the kind.  He was a loser.  He was immature, and didn't understand the balance of group dynamics.  He didn't notice what jokes were 'in' jokes, and didn't seem to see any of the accepted taboo subjects... It really threw things out of step for everyone, and we got pretty tired of him.

Except, I didn't.  We started talking... about anything, little things.  Then about more important things.  We discovered we were two of the few people in the school who didn't really see sex as a taboo conversation topic.  And, at our age, it's reassuring to have someone to whom you can talk.  We started entrusting each other with our secret thoughts and emotions, and finally, our dreams and weaknesses.  

We wandered through the verdant, lush paths of friendship.  We held hands, and led each other forward; over fences, and around worse obstacles.  In just a few weeks, we knew how inordinately happy we made each other.  

But, somewhere in the following month, we realised we'd passed beyond to bounds of friendships.  We were looking into each other's eyes, and hadn't noticed the limits where most friends stop moving forward.  Finally, he told me he loved me.  It wasn't until that moment, when I thought my heart would burst, that I realised just how much I loved him, too.  

I'm his Spider.  He's my Ocelot.  And, we just happen to love each other.  

He's still a loser, and he still doesn't see the subtlties of anything.  He still tickles me too hard, and laughs at me when I'm a little too fragile.  He still refuses to touch me at all affectionately, when anyone else is around.   He still tries too hard, with the rest of our group. 
 
He's still not perfect.  But then, neither am I.  And, he loves me. 

I can't express how happy it makes me now, even just to type those words.  He loves me... He loves me.  HE LOVES ME!  I still can't quite believe it, until he tells me for the next time, and there's so much trust and earnesty in his eyes, and he holds me like I'm something special, and tells me how lucky he is to have found someone so worth loving.  My life is just magnificent.  There's nothing in the world like being loved.   

When we're alone together, everything changes for the better.  He pulls me close, and lets me hold on to him, and - if I don't let him - he tackles me into the ground and bearhugs me until I don't want him to let go, even if I can't breathe, because he's my Ocelot, and he loves me, and he's not going to let me go.  

I wish I could bottle up all the happiness, and sheer bliss I feel when he's near me.  I wish I could give it to all the people I love.  He gives me so much, and holds me so close, and - just sometimes, when he loves me and no-one else is around - he drops a kiss in my hair, and pretends it didn't happen.  I love him, forever'n'ever.