Why is it that we are so often repulsed by things which, deep down, we truly crave? A non-admittance to the self, the soul, of it’s forbidden wants, ifs and maybes. A tiny voice that is drowned out by saying no, no, no.
I would say that now I wonder how I truly felt about you, yet that is a lie… I do wonder. There is a Truth begging not only to be intellectualized but felt. I sense a contradiction deep within, and though it… through it… I just struggle to put this in words even in my own mind. I’m not sure I am ready to say how I feel, or that I know how I feel at a rational level, but I know the emotion is there, it’s within my body somewhere and waiting to be acknowledged.
I spent a sleepless night not half a week ago thinking of you and what I would do were I to see your face again. The next day I saw you’d removed me from your friends list on social media and I didn’t know what to do with myself… I haven’t been checking up on you but it seems specific that these two happened at the same time. I know that you have cut a tie, that you are moving forward and I’m so glad, it’s for your best. At the same time though, I feel like a rubber band has been snapped on my brain. Wake up, there’s a lesson here somewhere.
If I were to be home, I’d walk up to your gates, stride toward you with silent purpose and take you in a deep kiss. At least then we’d know. There’s even a potentiality that you’re reading this right now because you knew me better than I knew myself a lot of the time, and to be so damn honest, that’s what scared me. Fuck. Every time we hugged, the older we got, the more me knew each other, the more I held back. I feel this is a repeating pattern, and I feel helpless to stop it, to accept it. It got to a point where I felt repulsed, and now I know it is a revulsion of my self. There is something inside me that I have never acknowledged, allowed, and being half way across the world I feel sick to my stomach. You knew me better than anyone else, without words, and you still loved me and I constantly brushed your compliments aside, they made me uncomfortable… It made me uncomfortable that you had so much love for me, because you knew me; the worst parts of me and you still stayed. I’m sorry I didn’t.
Because you seem to have found a beautiful girl, and your smile looks like it gets bigger each and every day… I am so proud of you, and how you’ve come to terms with your self and bravely engaged in the most courageous of conversations and said fuck it, i’ll be myself. You are a beautiful soul and I am sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry I pretended to not hear the one sentence you whispered into the phone, because that sentence now haunts my dreams. Because I heard it, loud and clear. I wish I had responded by telling you the story of one night we spent in my four poster bed, curtains surrounding, and I stared at your back half the night horrified by the startling realization that all I wanted to do was reach out and touch you. What I wanted most in the world was to be held by you, despite my actions screaming the opposite; the countless nights in your bed where I would wake up drenched in sweat stuck in between the bed and the wall, the furthest away I could get.
And as I am writing this I think I am understanding my muddled up mess of a brain. I never wished to cut you out, what I truly wanted was to repair our relationship and be open and communicate and get back to a state of loving, of progression and moving forward… but my actions didn’t line up with that and I never truly knew why – but now I do. Because how can you repair a friendship when it’s based on lies? How can you repair a relationship when one party is in a state of self-denial? I am half way across the world, no idea when I will be home, no idea what the future holds for either of us. I can not never see you again.
So, what now?
What, in the name of all that is holy, do I do?