[Originally posted at the author’s Multiply blog page on March 25, 2008]
I have spent the last four years of my life thinking about you – daydreaming – hoping that one day maybe I’ll get the chance to have that one conversation where I can have the closure I have longed for so long… or perhaps I can start believing that happiness does exist – for a change.
I may love you but do not have to have you if it means having you against your will. You being with me yet not wanting it.
Sometimes I find myself staring into nothingness seeing nothing but you.
What pains me is when I wake up from a dream… a thought shaken by the fact that you are not anywhere near me – and recognizing as a fact that you’ll never be.
I have learned to love being in pain. It’s better than feeling nothing at all.
Bleeding is better than feeling hollow – one of the lessons I’ve learned from loving you.
Waiting is such a painful process. Waiting for someone who you know would not come is agonizing – a fool’s task. I top the list of those fools.
All those years, you were the reason I got up every morning to live – every time I woke up I tell myself this might be the day I’ll bump into you or even catch even just a glimpse of you. And at the end of each day of failure, I make myself believe that maybe tomorrow will be the day I get to see you. I know I’m tired of believing in those tomorrows – but I seem to have forgotten how to stop believing. Or maybe I am simply afraid that in ceasing to hope I’d see you one of these days, I’ll never let myself wake up – for I have lost the very reason to.
Did you, even just for a second, stopped and thought of me? Just one frame of me in your mind? Remembered what I wore that night? Remembered me laugh, giggle, or talk in slow motion? Do you have any bit of memory about me?
Am I that part of your life that even when deleted, nothing – everything’s unchanged?
When you kissed me, was it for the kiss or was it for me?
I have written a thousand poems about loving you, yet nothing seemed to express everything I felt about you. I am starting to doubt nothing will ever be.
I wrote thousands of messages for you – none of them reaching you. It’s just me and cowardice. It’s me not having the nerve to say I love you.
Is this a game to you? Do you have that guide that tells you to contact me after six months? A year perhaps? Just every time I start believing I can get over you?
How come you can live without wanting to hear from me? And I, a slow death every day I don’t hear from you?
Where does one draw the line between loving and being pathetic?
When I have said I’m over you, why can’t I bring myself to take that as a fact?
I’m with him but I’m seeing you.