Searching for words (goodnight)

Is there a word for when you are lying on concrete, someone's head in your lap, staring into each other's eyes, and a cockroach skitters across your open palm? When you've just gotten back from the beach, you're covered in sand, the air is warm but dark, and you have to pee? 

What about a word for when you see someone you didn't expect to ever see again? When you're on a tiny island, entirely ready to spend the day by yourself, and the universe has alternate plans? Is there a word for the feeling when a day that is nearly perfect still has to end, and you still have to leave? 

We had sex in my rental car, without a condom. It was the first time I'd done that in a while, but I could chalk my willingness up to my thoughts of it being the last time I'd see you. At least for a long while. We were on an island in the middle of the Pacific, a place where birds made noises I'd never heard before. We'd already done it in the outdoor shower at the hostel, and on the beach under the moonlight. The more I think about it, the more romantic it seems in hindsight, though at the time it felt primal, dirty and physical, sandy. It felt like all the right kinds of desperation. 

I love the way the right people can handle my sarcasm, can give it right back to me, who aren't afraid of hurting my feelings with a joke. The first thing I look for in a person is whether they take themselves too seriously. That first night that we met, we went to the souvenir shop/convenience store (everything there seemed to be part-souvenir shop) to get beer, and the woman behind the counter asked if we were paying all together. Without missing a beat, you put your arm around me, I said to the woman "We are together, yes." You told her we'd probably make kids with some pretty great hair. Your curls were better than mine. Or at least, neater. 

I like to think I'm the kind of girl who keeps herself out of drama, because I don't entertain liars. But that first night, you looked up my name in the hostel records, you found what room I was in, you called my name and I came out into the common area. Is there a better word than flattery? One that denotes the way that it makes you feel when a person you are interested in communicates their interest, and something flutters in your stomach, and mildly creepy behavior seems alluring because humans are imperfect and feelings are unpredictable and our behavior stems from the ways we use our minds to convince our bodies to do things? 

Are other people human in the same ways as me? Because sometimes I feel things with my entire body; shivers like laughter and sadness like a dripping faucet and wanting like starvation. If other people feel things this way, they have not told me about it. 

No matter what I do, people who do not want to stay will eventually find a way to leave. These are the things I talk about with my therapist. Most recently, I told a boy that I don't like most people, that the ones I decide I like I hold onto, tightly, drive myself crazy with a desire for control, for defined stability, for trust. 

This is for you, Mark, if you ever think about me the way that I sometimes remember to think about you. I think that you do. I think sometimes you remember the green of the grass, the views of the ocean, the Hawaiian flowers, the way I told you to stop and smell them, the way you kissed me when I said that. I think you remember hearing birds mocking your whistle, the way we jumped off waterfalls (me only the smallest ones), the red of the sand, the guava from the fruit stand, the way you hugged me right up off the ground, stayed behind to walk with me when we ran into each other on the first stop of the Road to Hana. 

Here are the things I remember: warm banana bread, the green and orange nails of the girl at the lunch stand, you talking about writing in your journal. I remember hugging you while we waited for dinner (at yet another food stand), talking about the Weimar Republic, laughing at your stories at Bubba Gump Shrimp. I remember the way you kissed me the morning before I drove to the airport. How you didn't seem to want to say goodbye, how strongly I felt the pull of you back to me that last time to kiss me before I drove away. How you admitted you were sad when I left the first time, how charming it felt to be missed, again, when I hadn't felt the pull of someone missing me since my ex told me he didn't ever want to see me again. 

You can keep yourself as distant as you want, but sometimes life puts you in situations with people that you just can't help but get to know. And sometimes these people help you get to know yourself a little bit more. 

Is there a word for finding people that make you feel more like yourself than you have since you set off to find yourself in a new city? What about for the love you feel for those who exist outside of yourself? The loyalty, the passionate guilt when you let these people down? 

I think I love too easily. Perhaps this is why feelings crash through my brain and survive like blood as they pump through my body.