It’s really quite amazing when you know someone so well that you can actually predict their actions or responses. It’s even more astounding when someone knows you so well that they do exactly what you had hoped they would do, without you even having to ask them to. I don’t mean like, your-man-dusted-the-house kinda hopes; I mean like, you’re-man-took-you-out-to-dinner-at-your-favorite-restaurant-on-your-anniversary-where-he-presented-you-with-a-set-of-2-carat-diamond-earrings-while-a-hired-string-quartet-played-your-song-in-the-background kinda hopes. Yeah, shit like that.
Unfortunately, although one of the highest hopes that I could have in my current life scenario has been reached, it has left me feeling very, very confused. My first impulse is of course to respond, to let him know all the things that I still want to say. Maybe I can still get through to him? I’d tell him how I want to see him stop feeling like he owes anyone anything, and start making himself happy, as he deserves to be. I’d let him know how much he has meant to me, and how the few years we’ve known each other feels like it’s been a lifetime, or two. I would tell him that I always felt that he was my “kindred spirit,” as well, just like Anne of Green Gables. I’d let him know that it was never, ever about the trivial shit, it was always about much more… Yet, I am petrified to rip off that fresh scab which is just beginning to form. But what if nothing ever changes? What if I ended up, once again, in my current roll? I’d never be happy with that, and that is not fair to me. What if I end up opening myself back up, only to be crushed once again? I really don’t want to feel like I’ve lost my best friend again, my hardened heart can only stay numb to so much. I’m so torn over what to do that I have decided to post this, in lieu of responding. Somehow telling any wandering eye that may scroll across my page about how distraught I am over all of this is easier than talking to you. Strangers reading my fucked up thoughts is more inviting than crying on your shoulder. Admitting defeat to the entire world is less destructive than waiting for you any longer.
And, if you happen to read this: damnit, I miss you too.