I'd like to like me the way she likes me. I'd like to know what she sees when she sees me because I know she doesn't see what I see. She sees something more and I'd like to know how she could possibly see anything other than what I am.
Is the love I feel for her more than what I'm able to offer? Is the love I feel for her more than what I'm able to understand? If I were to tell her what I was feeling—knowing that even I don't know what I feel—would she be able to understand me or would I be talking to cryptically to be heard anyway? I already ruined it once; I knew I didn't feel for her what she felt for me, but if I know that things have changed, if we've flipped the story and she's moved on, ready for someone who isn't me because I know I'll ruin everything any, what difference would it make?
Maybe if I understood what she'd seen in me, I could know what it truly meant to love someone. I'd die for her, I'd do anything for her, talking to her makes it easier to breathe underwater, but how do I know that what I'm describing isn't more than friendship; I'd die for many people.
And yet, my chest still hurts when I'm not talking to her. I feel an emptiness inside of me than only closes when I talk to her, even quick little videos that don't mean anything because I'm too much of a coward to say anything.
If I tell her I love her, would I have to explain myself? I want her to know what I mean because she loves me too though I know that's too much to ask. Too much times has passed, she's too far away, like a wistful dream that dances away the more I reach for its hand.
And I am a coward. Too much of a lamb before the slaughter, shaking and sobbing because I know I could never give her what she wants. What she deserves.
But maybe if I could like me the way she likes me, I could find the courage to say it all: how she makes me feel, how I feel when I'm not talking to her, how I wish more than anything, I could just spend one more day with her, however brief.
I might.
