Keep it simple, silly

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

I really thought that writing her a letter would give me some closure. That I would now somehow be freed from thoughts of her. I believed that almost a week apart would dim my memory. I thought that by now I would have moved on. No such luck. My mind is preoccupied with her and I can’t seem to escape this sad fact. This is not healthy. It is holding on to an illusion. It is living on a perception of a sensation that was quite probably brought on by a perception. It is, for all intents and purposes, without foundation. But still it eats away at me, chewing me up from the inside, leaving my soul bare and unprotected.

And if it is like this now, what will happen if we actually get together? This scares me. I would need to give her freedom, but there’s every danger that I could cling to her, not let her out of my sight, like a little puppy dog. Neither of us would want this, but at the moment it feels like a very real possibility. She is so beautiful to me that I just want to become part of her. Slip inside and never come out.

Again, this is scary. What happened to me? Where did my self-belief go? It is still there, but it seems I would be willing to give it all away for the belief in another. Not healthy, not healthy at all.

But my heart’s aflutter and this is the meaning I ascribe to it. The whole world is beautiful to me at moments like this, yet that beauty is coupled with longing. How could one long for anything when surrounded by beauty? It is beyond me, but happening to me all the same.

And then there is the potential one-sidedness of such an affair. Even if she was interested in me – which I’m sure she has been to an extent – it is doubtful her feeling would reflect mine, so we would start off on an uneven footing and the relationship could well remain lopsided evermore.

But this is all speculation. She is away. She knows nothing of the letter. And it is doubtful she is wasting any time thinking of me. So what am I doing? I am better than this. I have better things to do than daydream about how things could be. Like a teenager’s first love, this is way out of perspective. We are good friends, let’s leave it at that.

I wish I could. I really wish I could. And I will try, I promise. I will try to get her out of my mind. I will try to move on. I will try to write about other things. I will try to return to normal. Right here, right now is all there is, and she is not here and I am. That’s that. There’s nothing more to it. It’s quite simple and totally straightforward. And if I keep telling myself this, I may even begin to believe it.


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