confessions

I've got a confession. On Friday nights, on my way from my office building to the parking lot, somewhere in the back of my mind I desperately wish I'd find you sitting by the fountain, waiting for me. I know it's crazy...it kinda reinforces my suspicion that my mind is most probably wrong in different places...but I can't help it. I know I said before that this won't be a place where I'll be whining and moaning about you but once or twice a quarter would probably be acceptable.

In case you're wondering why I don't bug you as often as I used to do before and how I seem to no longer care whether you're around or not, well it's not because I've stopped loving you, I've simple learned to leave things be. Things haven't changed: I still love you....you still don't love me. I suppose what has changed is that I've stopped blaming myself for being in this situation. There's nothing wrong with me, it's you who's got some issues to figure out.

It has been quite easy for me to blame myself. It's easier to say that I'm not skinny enough...tall enough...fair enough...or perhaps my hair's not straight enough for you to love me. Though I appear to be self-deprecating it actually gives me more hope thinking that perhaps if I lose weight or I moisturize enough or perhaps if I buy myself some long, black, straight and shiny hair you'd finally love me, but that's not how it is. I suppose there are just some things about you that I'm still scared to accept may be true. Perhaps it'd just hurt more to accept that you simply cannot love me.

I suppose tonight I can finally accept it...you can't love me.

ps: know that I still love you...