Anxious and restless, curious and wondering. Impulse says yes, pride says no. I have already talked myself out of this but to no avail. I have tried to condition and shake myself off of this nonsense but only in vain. The wretchedly irrational fondness seems to be lingering far more than I can imagine. I am battling with myself everyday, and for the life of me I cannot fathom how I have even gotten to this point.
I need a serious reality check; a hard kick to wake me up and smell the black coffee. As far as reality goes, it is as platonic as it is ever going to get, so why the fucking hell am I still hoping for something greater?
I seem to be running against time. I want a bond; to be a part of something to someone of which only time may allow. I find myself looking forward to weekends as those are the only days when time seems to slow down, feeling your presence, neglecting the days that have gone by.
Bits of expectations and disappointments, absence, nonchalance and oblivion, but hope is never lost. In spite of helplessness and hopelessness, a streak of positivity and possibility is always peeking in. Maybe we can be together again one of these days. Someday.
Once upon a time in the twelfth month, we met. I hope that is not the end. I miss the crazy conversations, subtle suggestions, pretentious promises and guessing games. I know it is not yet over because there is so much more than this. I will be forever hoping until that wish turns into a reality.
