|Sunday, 16 June 2002|
|I hope I can write well. I hope I can find my voice. I wish you could know how much I miss you. Even after these years gone by I miss you, even after all, everything, I miss you. My heart aches at times to have you close, to hold you close, to feel you next to me. I think about your breath, your sleeping so quietly, watching you. I... what? I... My throat goes tight, I can't keep from crying when I think like this, when I think of you while missing you. How could you know? Why would you? Would it even matter to you? I can smell you - you. How I loved to hold you tight when you feel asleep, skin against skin; I can smell you. I still long to have you close - can you believe that? Could you believe it?
I'm so tired now, and I know when I'm overly tired I can be so damn sentimental, but God how I miss him right now. I thought maybe this year, a year postponed, maybe because, I don't know, maybe because something might happen again. Foolishness, I suppose, despite it all, yet I did. Why do you stay with me so.
I pray you are happy. I pray you have found that happiness you fought so hard for. I pray you are honest with yourself. Do you think about us back then? Do you think that maybe a mistake was made - maybe an action, a word, a thought gone wrong? Do you miss me as I miss you? I suspect not, else way am I here.
Can you imagine how I miss you? Can you believe I still long for you? Even when I am not so tired, not so sentimental, how I still long for you.
I'm ashamed at times after these years that I still feel this way, still think this way about you. After all, should I not have gotten on with things? Should I not have put you behind me? What should I have done then... now? Forget you. I can't. I have to admit... I have to be honest with myself despite the foolishness... I still love you. I... want you to be with me. So it is. Part of me still thinks... some day. How foolish am I to entertain such thoughts, such feelings, some kind of hope?
I'm going away. I'm leaving soon. I wanted us to go together. You and me in the big city. I wanted to share your live... mine with you. I wanted us to be honest, to be real, to be there for one another. I wanted to understand you, and for you to know my heart... to understand me. To believe me when I said you are worthy of life, worthy of love, worthy of blessings. To see yourself as I saw you.
I know life; I know those times; I know sometimes the other, the beloved doesn't share in the same love. I know those things just happen. I know that could be how you felt for me. I just wasn't the one. I hope that was the case and not some other, some other thought or feeling you just couldn't express... some thought or feeling that we could have worked through, but you just couldn't say. I just couldn't see. That time in your bedroom, after the end, when I saw that look on your face as we talked, as I asked how I should then relate to you, I saw that look on your face. I wanted to say, "What? What is it? Just tell me," but I didn't. You couldn't, but that look told me you wanted to. How I wish you could be close to me. Do you? It is worth mentioning? I do think, just so there is understanding, just so there is no misunderstanding. You aren't going to read this, I'm sure. What do I then do, do now? To say these things to you, to your face... well, humiliation, rejection, misunderstanding. After all, you ended things and I'm sure you had good reasons. How pathetic is it for the other, for me, to still feel this way after three years. Yet, if I am honest with myself, which I can't but be right now, I do. I do. I still feel all these things. I wish you knew... I wish it would matter to you.
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