2006-02-21
Print Me a Page of Mercy
I hate the way butterflies still dance furiously with every thought of you. So what would I say if I ever had the chance? If I were ever given the opportunity to explain myself in hopes of taking you, having you, keeping you, this is what I would say.
I will tell you first that I am sorry. That my words fail my thoughts and instead I mutter insanity. With that you find me misunderstanding the little there is to understand. I beat my expectations with yours and know that there is nothing to expect but the unexpected. Yet every grain of hope in me begs for your attention when I know you are unwilling and unable to give me what I crave. I must seem pathetic and nimble to you. I must appear to be a jumbled mess when actually, I think it all coincidently pours out when I am around you. But you tear me up. Bottom line - you have no respect for me. So maybe I assumed that you had feelings for me beyond friendship, beyond whatever-we-are. I thought this was going somewhere. While this is my misunderstanding, it is you who has led me on to this point. And although I know who you are and know what you are about, I would hope that you would communicate with me a little bit more. I am a good person, and I think you know it. What you don't know is just how much I respect you.
Does this make any sense? You won't even read this. Every day I wish I could call you to tell you how I feel. But I know that you would never want to hear it. Then I wonder if you would read a letter and take the time to understand it and take everything to heart. Finally, I will tell you that I am here. I am waiting regardless of the pain this will potentially do me. And that may seem crazy to you, but I know that there is something. We have crossed paths time and time again and now we are here. Or maybe it's just me here... pathetic and alone.
oilandwater at 6:55 p.m.