two-point six

I have reached a point where my promises to shove you out of my mind festered like an open wound, and the pain increases tenfold, and I don’t know why.  It isn’t that it hurts because you have someone else because I have long accepted that, even before we’ve really met, when all we’d do is lock eyes for a second at most, then look away as if you would never flow right through into my existence, not knowing that the outcome would be otherwise, as I would lock myself in yours.

This is the point where I have accepted you can never be mine, and at the same time, still hanging onto that sliver of hope that I could be.  The process is repetitive, as I look forward to each day, wondering if I would bump into you and have those moments we usually have.  Why do I still anticipate even though there really is nothing there? Why do I still wait on you for things to happen, even if the joys you give me crack at the seams? Why do I even bother to wait when you will never, ever pass me by?

I ask you these in hopes you could answer me, as if these questions run through your mind too.  But all you have are answers, all you have is this life map spread on your table, knowing where exactly to move on from this phase in your life.  You’ve moved on, and I am unmoved still.  How do you do it? How is it easy for you to move instead of unmove? Do you know what it feels like to have the right words sealed in your throat, just waiting to come out, and instead form a series of stutters like staccato on a piano?

Do you know what it feels like to break down instead of holding it together? I have all the questions, you have all the answers.  I wish you knew what it felt like to ask, to be uncertain, to not know sometimes.  And I wish I knew what it felt like to be sure of a decision I make, to finally feel secure about everything I go through because right now, you’re the only certain thing I hold onto, and that’s why I latch on.  I latch on because you make me feel certain, even if you and I are not.



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