Short of Unrealistic
I wish I could tell you what I feel for you, but I know that if I did you would push me away. You’d worry that I’ve begun to expect more from you, that I’d want things you can’t give me. Maybe that’s true, maybe I want you to be in a committed relationship with me. Maybe for too long I’ve tried to convince myself and show you that’s not what I want because I tell myself that I’m happier having you like this than not at all, and while that’s the god honest truth, it doesn’t mean there isn’t still a part of me that wants to talk about you freely, without fear of prejudice because what we’re doing or did is wrong.
I continuously imagine your reaction at seeing me again, and it’s nothing short of unrealistic. I imagine your joy, I imagine you immediately taking me into your arms, and without words, telling me that you missed me, that you’re glad I’m back, and that you never again want to say goodbye.
I don’t entertain the reality that you’ve had time to think about what is now the past, and that you don’t want to repeat it, at least not with me. I don’t entertain the reality that you no longer feel the way you did for a brief moment in our history, because to do so would put me in a worse place than the one into which I am falling now.
I don’t tell you that I miss you, no matter how many times a day I think it, not just because I think it will lose all meaning to you, but because I hate the thought of you saying it back out of guilt or pity.
I like to entertain the idea that these thoughts are unfounded, that nothing has changed, and in a few months we will pick up where we left off… wherever that may be, but my own history with others states the contrary.
I wish you’d feel at ease telling me what you feel and what you’re thinking so that I wouldn’t convince myself that my thoughts are how you actually feel. I wish I had the courage to ask.