I have had enough.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t think, I can’t write. I dread every day…
…of seeing you before me and being unable to do anything about it. Of knowing the effect that we have on each other, marking the air between us with palpable uncertainty.
And I brought it upon us. I refuted your affections. I doubted your sincerity. I couldn’t stand the idea of being claimed.
But you and I, we both can’t do without each other, can we? Or was it my wishful thinking all along?
You, who prevails upon my mind like a bittersweet memory, forever haunting my waking moments; you, whose image unfailingly manifests in my troubled dreams; you, who I held onto for hope, for kindness and love…you became my own creation even before I got to know you.
And to see you in person is to bring all those visions crashing down, rendering me dismayed and wondering how easily I could get carried away.
It was never about you. It was always me, my convoluted thinking, my need for dependence that you came to fulfill, my unwillingness to accept you for who you are, my indifference to your struggle to bridge the gap between us that I only chose to emphasize more and more as we grew closer.
I wish I could be more forthcoming, but I can’t. For your sake, I won’t.
Nonetheless, you meant something to me…still do, always will and I wasn’t walking away.
Is this the way it ends? Are you content to leave this behind simply because it did not culminate the way you intended it to be?
To think we got this far, to think we rushed into taking a call; I am but bound by the stand I took.
And in the throes of a dying attachment, all I can say is: don’t leave me. Come back.
For I would walk towards you if I could but I can only meet you halfway. And so it is.