|These seconds when I'm shaking leave me shuddering for days...
||[May. 19th, 2005|07:23 pm]
Watching her leave was one of the hardest things I'd ever done, even harder than when I dropped her off at her dorm after a long, tearful talk that ended in breaking up. I'd told myself that I wouldn't give up this time, that I'd fight tooth and nail until she resented me for it and our friendship was ruined. Seeing that pain in her eyes, knowing that her heart was breaking every moment because she couldn't stand to hurt me or him, I caved in and let her go again. When things started, I'd accepted the fact that things between us may not go anywhere and that the time we'd spend together would only result in the two of us being heartbroken over one another again. It didn't stop me from trying. Like a condemned man on death row, I was willing to file one appeal after another until things finally looked too hopeless to go on.
She drove away and I could still taste her kiss. Her car continued on down the road, all the while I sat there with my eyes closed, trying to lock away the feel of her arms around me into a mental vault where I'd never lose it. I sat there on the stairs for ten more minutes, letting the afternoon soak into my skin along with the sweat that the glaring sun was beating out of me. What had I done?
Therein lies the problem though. What did I do? I told a woman that I loved her, that she compliments me in ways I never knew a person could, that I look forward to the time we spend together, even if it's just spent talking online about silly nothings. I let her get under my skin because I wanted her to know everything about me and had no idea where to start. So why am I asking myself "OMG, WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?!" She needed to know those things and a million more so that she might be able to make an informed decision. Instead, I locked away those few things in order to try and be fair to him, to not be seen as being manipulative.
So why am I asking "What have I done"? It's hard to answer to myself for having let someone that makes me so happy just walk away. I should be calling her and pleading with her to be with me. I should be sending her flowers and emailing her poetry or writing stories about love for her to read and think of me. I should be fighting to keep her, tooth and nail. Instead I let her go.
As she drove off, I wanted to call out to her to come back, to promise outrageous things that no man should ever promise, but I let her go. Where do we go from here?