So, we’re pushing a week since I said goodbye now, just a couple more days. During the week was hard enough, but the weekends are always harder as there’s so much more empty time during which my mind can run riot with all of its musings. I normally get on and do stuff to distract myself but it’s not always easy.
I decided to go out to town today, to get out of the house and have a nice long walk since it’s colder weather and I don’t overheat for ages but the whole time I was so anxious that I might see you somewhere. I still have no idea what I’d do or how I’d react. If we were walking toward one another I’d probably freeze while I weighed up the options of either continuing toward you and risking a really awkward passing hello which would be insulting to you because you deserve more, or a conversation (which is fairer for us both) in which I’m about as smooth and together as a destroyed teapot or praying that you hadn’t seen me up to that point, changing direction and legging it to whatever extent I could manage before it became obvious and noticeable. If I saw you through a shop window or browsing across the same shop, I’d probably just stiffen up, keep my head down and move on swiftly, ignoring the pang across my chest. But what if you were the one who saw me? Would you come up to me? Or would you experience the same kind of indecision as me? Probably not since you’re much more level headed then me in emotional situations, a trait I am still envious and in admiration of.
Either way, I think I made it through town okay. I bought some pens, grabbed a coffee and marched sternly back up the hill, deflating noticeably once I’d made it out of the central area back to the sanctity of other shifty people with their hands in their pockets and heads down trying to just get on with their journey.
It’s a strange position to be in, for me. I want to see you again, more than anything else, I miss the beauty of your face and the soothing of your voice and the incredibly alluring aura that surrounds you and everything you do. Yet, if I were to see you, I know how much pain would be shooting through me, knowing that we’re physically close to one another but so far apart, that nothing has changed and you’re still not coming back. I still fucking peer eagerly at my front door as I drive up to park my car in case you’re outside waiting for me. I still take a cheeky glance out of the window whenever I’m my kitchen washing up in case you’re walking down the road to knock on my door. I still looking at the cunting sky at night and tell you I miss you and I still jump a mile and get excited when I hear the email notification ping from my phone. It’s probably pathetic and stupid of me. I don’t care. I love you and miss you. I’m not ashamed to feel these things, nor be considered dramatic in my expression of them.
All I know is that I can’t be the one to break the silence this time. If you’re to make things work on your end, I can’t be there on your radar. You need a view of your path ahead without me obscuring it. I have to wait until such a time that you make contact or…I dunno really. I guess only time will tell what the alternative is because, as of right now, I’m losing grip on the tiny slither of hope I had left that you might come back to me.