I have made this letter longer, because I have not had the time to make it shorter.

I have made this letter longer, because I have not had the time to make it shorter.Blaise Pascal

Because I am who I am, and because this is what I do, I have already spent interminable hours thinking about you. I think about the way you smile at me and what it means to you; I know what it means to me, but I cannot even begin to imagine what you think. I think about you; about the way you put your arms around me and hold me tight; the way you hover around me but never really let me know what you are thinking. 

Wondering what your actions mean, what your intentions are and why you are even around me. I so badly want to know what I mean to you. Because I know what you mean to me. And you cannot even imagine what it is that you mean to me; how much you matter. 

I want to be your friend. I want to get to know you. I want to sit up all night and laugh with you. I want to laugh and drink wine with you, and have you hold my hand and laugh at my lame jokes. I want to know how you work, think, feel, want in life. I want to know your dreams and your fears; your favourite song and colour. I so badly want to know you.

 I want to fall in love with you. Too much?

I want to be in your life. I want you in my life. I know so little. But that much I know. I look at you and I smile. You make my heart want to break out in a song. And I am not that girl! I look at you and I want to cry because I so badly want you and want you in my life and future that I cannot bear the thought of not having you. And my heart sighs heavily.

I do not know how the future will be, but I do know that you are someone I want to imagine in it. I like the idea of you and me, and me and you: us. I like the idea of an us. You and me.

But all I get from you are obscurities. You smile and laugh too easily. It leaves me uneasy. Why are you so fickle friend? Where is the substance? Is it there? Or do I want it to exist so badly that I am lying to myself? 

You hold me not tight enough for a second too short. Longing for your arms to be around me. For a second longer, a little tighter. I want to be sure of you. So badly. I want to be reassured by your presence and to look in your pretty eyes and know what I am saying

You hold her and every other girl for a second longer than is necessary. In front of me.

You whisper and throw your head back at my bewildered face and naïve-sounding questions. You don’t say enough.  You stand there. Saying nothing. I try and read into it; nothingness.

You disappear, leave me wallowing in my own insecurities and questions.

 You re-appear and do just enough to make me wonder a little longer while the crowd swallows you up.

You look me dead in the eye, you smile, raise an eyebrow. You laugh.  You leave. You stay. And I wonder why, when you have nothing to say to me.

And I love you more and more. Despite my best intentions.  Consumed by the thought of you throughout the day. Haunted by you in my dreams. Haunted. In spite of myself. I find myself falling for you.

Because of who I am, who you are, what I am, and what I do.


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