In the wee hours of the morning curled on my loveseat came the admittance of feelings. They felt like bomb going off in my head, I love you *boom* I always thought it would be me and you in the end *boom* You are the only person I could see myself marrying *boom*. Emotional explosion after explosion left my ears ringing and his face hot to the touch. I hid behind my relationship at the time and when he hugged me and left that night it felt like a real goodbye.
A year later almost exactly our tables have turned. I am the one making confessions and putting my cards down face up while he retreats. Only, it seems he is more sacrificial than I. Where he went a year with feeling the way he did and being “just friends” its been a week for me and it hurts too damn bad to continue.
I wish I could paint. Imagine a cliff over a great abyss filled with every color imaginable. Soft colors, pastels and sunsets, and the cliff over it was a being on her knees bowed in child’s pose. The wind beating her back so relentlessly that she begins to erode. If I could paint that’s what I would draw because that is how I feel.
Weeks of silence are worse than any words you might have said.
I have come to the point that I knew would come, the point where you know you can’t go backwards or stand still. It has to be forward or the journey is over. That’s where I am. No more skirting. No more ignoring. No more silences.
Someday, some One will choose me.