written 7 de octubre
bear, (i wish i could call you this without the word getting stuck in my throat),
last friday, maya asked me, if you found out, what would be the worst possible thing to happen.
my first response was that it would be for you to not care. you see, your apathy scares me. i would hate my feelings for you to be brushed aside as if insignificant, a fleeting girlish adoration. would it hurt if you didn't acknowledge it at all?
but since friday, i've been thinking. what if the worst thing that could happen is that you never know? that my feelings stay buried, eroding away the cavernous walls of my chest. If you never find out, I will never know what could have been. i'll always be wondering.
but then. i think you might already know, perhaps you just don't know that i know that you know, so neither one of us are going to address it. why? because the unknown factor is profound. how do you feel about me? do you know?
if you do find out, and i'm right, you don't feel the same, then i can only hope nothing between us changes.
i think what i'm really afraid of is that you'll find out about me, feel for me too, but everything will stay the same.
i think i like you too much for that.
i don't want you to flinch when my fingertips brush you. i want you to lean into me.
i rarely get what i want when it comes to romantic matters.
i'm tired of not knowing, but terrified of.
written 13 de octubre
i was right.
i was right and i am crushed. but also set free?
i'm feeling less blind, but i've also been shoved into the deep end with a weight tied to my ankle.
suffocating. this shouldn't hurt?
you don't like me, you like her.
i don't even mind that you like her. i'm shocked by the lack of jealousy i feel.
i just feel your absence.
i'm not for you; i've known it since the beginning.
i let myself envision a romance with you,
one with a beginning, middle and end.
i found out last friday, moments before driving past you in uniform.
the tears came fast, over you, who was running around with a stupid leather ball, completely oblivious - the last thing you're thinking of being me.
oh, how i curse the field that is now imprinted with the thought of you.
i hope one day i can remember it fondly, the same way i remember the baseball field that is engraved with the thought of her.
i cried, i yelled, i laughed between sobs.
i feel so dumb. too dumb,
you are not mine to cry over. we were and are nothing.
nothing but friends.
