We've not spoken all day, and that makes me so sad. Monday I figured he wanted nothing to do with me, and so I left him be. When he came to check on me, he cast my whole day in sunlight. Yesterday it was his turn to be crabby and quiet and avoid me, so I checked on him, and he melted like so much butter. I floated through the afternoon- until things went bad. I can't decide if it's heartbreaking or amusing that we're too busy being accused of things we didn't do to get close to doing the things we're accused of. It scares me- I'm not a bad person, I don't do bad things, and he makes me feel like I never truly understood morality or love or trouble before. He make things gray.
I spend a lot of time wondering if he's stringing me along, using me to feed his ego, laughing behind my back at the remote idea that he would find me attractive. His hungry gazes, his words dripping with subtext- they make me feel like I'm the most beautiful creature that ever graced the earth and I should be spending my days writhing in satin and rose petals. One minute I feel like a silly schoolgirl, ruining my life for some childish crush, and the next moment he's emailing me, or brushing my hip with his hand as he passes by, and before I can talk myself out of it, I'm gone again. Gone to that world where only he and I exist, and my breath becomes ragged and I have trouble seeing clearly.
What I wouldn't do for a little of that hope this afternoon. It's for the better; I know that- I know that using one romance to kill another is ill-advised. I know that I'm risking my reputation and my personal integrity. But when he touches me, when he speaks my name, I cease caring about any of that. I would destroy everything I have for that touch. The draw is so compelling that I can't see anything but his eyes, his face- I can't think of anything but breathing his breath and listening to his heart beat in her chest. The intensity of my desire frightens me, and that only heightens the excitement, until I cannot breathe and I cease to function in any other manner than pursuing what I can't live without.
Hearing him laugh and play with other people is unbearable. It's my fault that I can't get that kind of attention anymore; it only draws scrutiny and rumors we can no longer withstand. It is still unbearable. My heart breaks a little with every laugh, every comment, and those beautiful eyes shining with laughter and happiness directed at someone else. Facing the reality of the mess I've made- it even ruins my fantasies. Those wonderful, all-consuming daydreams that have been the only thing keeping me going- that feeling- I've not felt it in so long- the butterflies, the outright longing- I don't own that anymore. I pulled my dreams into the daylight and they blew about like dust, scattering everywhere, and shining in the light as they landed, spread so thin that even I can't put them back together.
I've thought we'd gotten to that point before; and then he would offer some encouragement, and I rose like a phoenix from the ashes- became real again, as if I were the Velveteen Rabbit and he was the little boy whose love gave things new life. That sounds so degrading, so humiliating- to compare a grown woman with a love-worn stuffed animal. That isn't how it feels. My heart swells with so much hope and desire that I can't afford rational or self-protective thought- I'm drowned in my undeniable feelings for this man. There are moments of embarrassment, regret, guilt. Those three o'clock in the morning panics, of which I'm all too familiar these days, but they fade with the sunrise, like dew drying on the grass, and when they're gone, I can hardly tell they were ever there.
-Written May 2008
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