A/N As often happens, I sat down to convey a thought and the final product was the polar bloody opposite of what I had in mind originally. But hey, I had fun sending Edward absolutely insane. Enjoy :D

A Disorganized Beauty

It's an infuriating feeling, like he's just had a massive epiphany and he wants to stand up in front of the whole world and say beautiful profound things. Yet, he can't think of anything profound to say and he doesn't have a clue what he's having an epiphany about.

That feeling's a bitch.

After eighty years he's had a good amount of time to theorize everything into nice little categories in his brain. He likes that. Categories. Nice little categories where every idea has a slot and it's own bar code.

Bella doesn't have a bar code or a slot. She has his entire brain and heart and every other bodily organ that stopped working when she walked into the biology classroom and into his life.

His brain is a mass of swirling thoughts now. Swirling thoughts that all revolve around her and every aspect of her.

And he hates that he can feel a thought that might explain it all. It's like having a word on the tip of your tongue and not being able to remember it. He has a thought on the tip of his brain and he can't remember it. Not that he ever knew what it was in the first place but it's there, he can feel the repercussions of it, feel the organized state it'd put his brain into if he could think of it, and it's driving him crazy.

None of them can understand – well except maybe Alice but even she's a bit baffled by it – they're all sure he's having some kind of mid life crisis.

And if infinity had a mid point he might actually agree with them.

Part of him wants to yell and scream at her for interrupting his nice little organized world. He thinks maybe he's a lost cause and that he's going to be in a state of confusion now until eternity.

But a bigger part thinks that if he could just understand what his epiphany is then he could go back to his organized world. That if he could understand that something that's niggling away at him in the back of his head then he could categorize everything again. It might take him another eighty years but it's better than living with this for all of time.

It takes him a week to figure out what it is. He's sure that that one week has sent him permanently and irreversibly crazy.

One week. One girl. One brown eyed girl with translucent skin and a banged up truck.

And suddenly for a moment, the clear feeling he's had for a week – the one that should have accompanied a clear picture but didn't – is shoved into sharper focus and he's finally seeing the picture.

It's not just about her at all.

It's about how he feels about her.

How he loves her.

For a moment he's relieved because the frustration is gone and he thinks he's about to get his nice little organized world back.

He realizes a moment later he's wrong.

His world becomes more disorganized. Suddenly his thoughts about her are increasing ten fold and he's sure that his brain is about to collapse in on itself because it's thinking too much.

He smiles.

"What are you smiling about?" She asks coyly.

He chuckles and answers inwardly: The disorganized beauty that is love.

Good? Bad? Do both Edward and I need a good shrink?? That little review button is there for a reason :D