I knew, everytime I gave in to the emotions within, that I was making a big mistake. Yet, there I was... not knowing what to say when she cried, when times got rough... and all I could assure her of is that I loved her. While a shiver went down my spine upon reading her reply to one of my entries... and moreso one night, that I'm unsure if she remembers, where, amidst a hazy conversation, she confessed that she wanted me... I had, long ago, learned that wishful thinking doesn't translate into true emotions. Those facts were what was supposed to help me stay in control... knowing that regardless of what certain moments may lead her to say, the truth is that love is nonexistant... and wanting me, well... it has never been strong enough to weather the minor things. So often have I been taught the opposite of such proclamations by her actions... and we all know the cliche. I reminded myself how, in spite of the numerous explanations, and even that beautifully woven reply, the truth could be found in words previously uttered... men previously dated... experiences still sought. I told myself that those subpar men, those who will never fully appreciate her beauty or love her to the smallest degree to which I do, somehow managed to hold her, to kiss her... and perhaps more. I was ok with being friends, still am... but I overestimated how my strength would stand up to the concrete truth. I've said it time and again, love supercedes everything. My intentions were sincere, in just wanting to be around her... because truth be told, I've seldom smiled more than in her presence. Her personality blows me away. And somehow, amidst constant communication, my guard was let down, and I let mere words penetrate my soul. I found myself unable to contain the missing, the loving, the wanting... and at first it was random, a reminder that my heart was so passionately dedicated to her. But, before you knew it, I was telling her every chance I got... and the opportunity to spend time as friends, slowly became misconstrued. The comfort faded, and the questions and doubts came crashing down on something I looked forward to with such joy. Again, words fooled me to thinking she wanted to see me... and actions cleared it up, and saw doubt overwhelm such "want."
I was furious, watching such a wonderful moment slip away. And in no way, ever, would I dare let her share any piece of the blame. It's me... I should have known so much better. I should have been stronger... because I know that the feelings I have are what poisons any opportunity for us to be objective friends. What's worse is that, lost in the excitement, I treated it like the second coming... and now, I have to slowly and smoothly disarm the anticipation I built. I couldn't be mad at her... and I made one last effort to open the door... but I guess this situation is far too fragile to place in the proximity of such an overwhelming love. And while I understand, I loathe everything I wasn't able to control for taking this from me. Suddenly, I'm told that we're back at square one, that comfort with which I was spoken to dissapeared with such stealth. I got so drunk last night... and almost didn't make it to work in one piece... and all that held me together is that perhaps I could just make this work... and the simple act of giving her a hug could once again be anticipated. Tonight, rather, we truly are back at square one. I'm left questioning myself. I'm left reminded of how it was when I knew precisely where she was, and we could not say one word to one another. I'm so ashamed of myself...
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