i do not think i can be friends with you. every time we talk, all i can think about is you telling me you can’t imagine us working out. oh, and how, somehow, you think it’s possible to tell me that and not have it change everything.
admittedly, i wish it didn’t. but i reckon i’m not that enlightened just yet. i sit here and remember when you looked for me every night, had to speak with me every night. and how, with one conversation, that just… stopped. it made it all seem fake, you know. how does anyone just… stop?
of course, i realize that’s just me judging you by my own standards and methods. i never could just stop, so it’s hard for me to understand how people do it. i’ve never said ‘i love you’ without meaning it, so it’s hard for me to remember people do that.
you know what it feels like? it feels like you had your fantasy indulged and got it out of your system. things changed almost as soon as you got on the plane. by the time you were back home, your tone had altered. of course, i didn’t like hearing it, so i ignored it.
my fault, that. not yours.
but it gets in the way, how i feel. when i talk to you now, i’m always wondering how you can just ramble about work and home and never once feel the need to say you miss me. and i get frustrated and angry because that’s all i want to say to you.
i don’t, of course. instead, when you ask me how i’m doing, i just tell you the truth. and i mark how you close up and shut down. but i don’t like the way i resent that you do. and i don’t like how i can feel you trying to pretend you don’t know i’m feeling this way or that i shouldn’t be honest about it.
i don’t like how we have to pretend. i think i’m too angry with you to be your friend right now.
i think you knew all along what i wanted and i think that somehow, you actually thought i’d change my mind when we spent more time together. that’s kind of fucked up, really.
when i didn’t change my mind, you got scared and ran off where it’s safe, using ‘i don’t think we will work out’ as the excuse.
you couldn’t even tell me why. i suppose i shouldn’t have asked… but i figured if six months was going to go up in smoke, i should at least hear it bald and ‘straight up’. i felt i deserved to know exactly why it had to do so.
i sit here take a moment to thank Heath for teaching me the things he did. it makes this easier. a little. not much, i admit.
there are a dozen horrible little whispers in the back of my head and they are not as kind as i am making myself be in this moment. i ignore them as best i can, but i cannot ignore how i feel when we talk. or how sharp and painful it is that we are never going to talk the way we used to…
my mistake, of course. i really did think i could be your friend. i was wrong. i am wrong. and it doesn’t seem fair to either of us for me to be anything other than honest about it.
i feel like i should apologize about it. but i am not. i’m not sorry that i care for you. i’m not sorry that i loved you. i’m not sorry to grieve what i feel as a loss.
i am sorry that i cannot be your friend in this moment. perhaps with time and after working through this anger, that will be different. naturally, i don’t expect you to wait around for it. and i suppose i don’t really expect you to understand this, or why it is as it is. that’s ok. not your obligation, is it?
for all i can’t bear talking with you right now, i do not wish you ill. it’s not like that. i will always wish you well and hope that you will meet someone you can be happy with… and for now, i’m sorry that it couldn’t be me, but this too shall pass and, even in the midst of the anger, i can still smile crookedly for the blessing of still being able to say and really mean… “i just want you to be happy, and i’m pretty sure i’m not able to contribute to that right now.”
sigh.