Hope Says No

Do you know that feeling when you miss someone so much, but the thought of seeing them is too surreal? You want to see them, but you wouldn't know what to do if you actually saw them? Someone so distant, they've become a part of your imagination, and there's no telling what's real and what isn't.

They're a literal dream to you now, and they'll soon stop existing to you, when you forget and forgive, and if you don't, you'll have to dream that same dream every night again.

It feels like a good old heartbreak.

It feels like I need that someone closer to me, or even just a bit close would be okay. They're distant and they're not real anymore. They're just an idea in my head, that runs circles around me every day and make me believe they're still there, maybe they still wanna see me.

The last things I heard from them left me as one big question mark. They've always been unreal to me. Too bright for me to really see, that I was just following them around like some lost puppy.

It was blind, and I was at ease with them. What we were was so fragile, it would break if we ever spoke about it, and we never did.

We never talked about any of it, and that left me wondering about so many things. It was left to my imagination, and I find my imagination wandering again this time a year.

I have no idea what's happening in their life, and my curiosity is killing me. I wonder, I wanna know. Their whole existence is so vague, that I can't grasp more than the idea of them.

I can reach out to them, if I dare. If I dare I might satisfy my own curiosity, possibly dig up old memories, and just make everything so much worse.

They have their life, and I'm not a part of it. I want to be, not necessarily as anything but a friend. I had always said I was never in love with them.

It's been two years since I met them. It's been over a year since they crossed out all kinds of lines and pulled me in. It's been four months, one week and three days since they did something selfish and supposedly horrible to me, but I didn't have a problem with it, I knew and wasn't bothered by it, is that a hard concept to grasp?

Because for me, I was finally happy about something, I had something that meant nothing, or rather it didn't mean anything and it didn't necessarily mean nothing either.

Exactly what I had wanted.

It was out there, floating, and it was fragile, and they said something, so the bubble broke. I knew what it was, and I was okay with it. I was honestly just enjoying myself. I had so much fun, and it was over so fast. I wish I could know for certain what the consequences of a message to them would be. Then I might've considered it for longer.

It's very important that I get over it, and I should stop thinking about it. Just like I did the first time, even if I want to be friends. I don't want it to have been a mistake. It wouldn't have been a poetic one.

I know they aren't perfect, but that's what makes them so beautiful. The illusion is perfect, and that's what I was talking about. They're brilliant, and they don't know.

It doesn't do me any good to frown at everything, moping around because of this, and I know, and it doesn't stop me. I gave up on finding a replacement of course. Who could replace beauty incarnate?

It's not that I'm in love with them now, either. I'll always feel something for them though, just like a first love, except they're not.

They're just special. I'll speak of them with romantic nostalgia, and make them a poetic memory.

No matter how easy it is for me to reach out, it's never gonna be a good idea. I could never really get myself to do it, not with a clean conscience. Because it'll mean that I'm breathing life into a fire that's long dead.

They shouldn't have to deal with me, just because I don't want to forget about it. It's not fair, but they were never fair to me. In fact, I should be mad and upset.

I should've said, "What the hell?" I should've questioned and demanded answers. I could've, I didn't.

I didn't because I never wanted to ruin it. I put myself out there for them, if I could do something for them, I did.

One whisper of their wishes or whereabouts and I was flying out the door, cleaning my room, wearing pretty clothes, and dresses and wearing expensive makeup.

I'd always end up doing everything for nothing, but it didn't feel like it was for nothing. And hey, I'd actually do something for a change. Just in case. I could hide my disappointment every time, but after last summer, I find it more difficult to care about my own emotional outlets. It's a mess anyway.

They are a fleeing bird, fleeting freedom from its cage. Now that they had the chance, it's so easy. But they don't leave a second time, and I think they won't. Because they don't want to see me. Otherwise wouldn't they try to?

Or are they waiting for me this time? It's impossible to tell which one could be, but I've got a decent, educated guess.

They don't want to see me. In a sense that's a good thing, in a sense it's much better for me. You'd think that if I won't listen to anyone else, even myself, I might listen to them, considering what kind of picture I've been painting of them. Probably wouldn't.

Against many beliefs, I'm not stupid. I wanted something from them, and they did give me something, because they wanted something from me. So it was fine, but I just don't want to feel stupid, which I have felt since the last time. I kept thinking, oh I don’t want them to think, I don't want them to know, I don't want them to think this and that about me. Well, I don’t care now.