I have words.

So you think that the truth is important?  Do you tell it every time?

I think about you.  Not just when I’m happy, or when I’m sad, or when I’m lonely.  I think about you all the time.  Not constantly consciously… I geuss.  I am always aware of your presence in the world.  Like you can feel your fingers, like the weight of your arms.  I can feel you pressing on the world.  I don’t believe in extrasensory perceptions.  I believe in the things I can see and smell and taste and touch and hear, but I believe that I would know if you were gone from this world.

Happiness is a striving, a battle.  Against what?  I don’t know.

I’ve heard it said that doing what you want makes you happie.  I think about these words when I think of you.  I avoid talking to you when I can.  It’s hard, because telling you things, asking you things, it’s like a compulsion.  I write things down where you could read, but never will instead of telling them to you.  I want to talk to you, but I force myself not to do it.  And when I can complete a day without having called you, or IMed you, or texted you I feel… victorious.  Maybe you don’t notice, maybe you do.  The thing is that I know how hard it is. 

When I’m with you.  When I get to the point where the physical fact of your existence can’t be denied, I go to see you.  I have to, it’s what I want more than anything in the world.  I try so hard not to touch you.  Every second I’m with you I imagine this part or that part of your body and the texture of it and how it would feel if at this moment I brushed my fingers across your back.  I don’t know if you know these things, or if it would make a difference to you if you did, but I know them and the fact of my feelings for you colors every moment of my life.

I’ve tried to deny how much you mean to me.  I’ve tried to forget and destroy and denounce the words and the thoughts and the feelings, but they remain.  Something outside my power to ignore. 

I know that the reason these words are here, is because you’ll never hear them.  I don’t know what you want from me, or even how you feel about me.  I don’t know what you think about when you say things to me, or what you mean by the things that you say.  I can freely admit that I don’t understand you.

The fact is though, that you make me happie.  You make me feel safe and free, both at once.  And that is an incredible feeling. 

So I will try not to talk to you, but I will.  And I will try not to see you, but I will.  And I will try not to want you, but I will.
These are facts.  I’m not going to lie about you.


About SleepieBear

Opinions are my own. Facts are poorly checked. (Unless cited.) Use your brains.
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