10:19

10:19 PM

Since I've started writing you again, I may as well continue tonight. Billie been playing. Only a select few know that when I'm listening to Billie it means I'm over thinking and under loving. You're on my mind, with a whole bunch of other things. And today was a pretty unproductive day. I mean, I did get some new books from the thrift store but after that I didn't do anything but lay here. I probably needed the rest. Some weeks are filled with adventures and some weeks are slow paced and quiet. 

Social anxiety is creeping up on me again. And I don't think anyone I know really understands. Not even you. So there's no one to talk to about it. 

I miss you. I don't really understand how my heart keeps its ability to crave you and love you and want you around. It's an energy I wish I could place into other areas of my life. Maybe that should be my newest self-challenge, redirecting my energy to something else every time I find my mind fixated on you. But meditating teaches us that we have to accept our thoughts, not resist them. Meditating is so helpful but I really need to go to therapy. Someone needs to hear these echoing whispers; flickering memories of you are like flames causing my mental-capacity to morph from a strongly rooted tree to processed rubber... I literally melt down from keeping these thoughts alive. Alive. Alive. Letters to you, for me, are my quick fix. 

And yet, I didn't send you what I wrote for you last night. I was glad about it this morning but part of me is curious to see how you would respond if I reached out. Would you hurt me by rejecting me? Or would you be happy to hear from me and come running to me?

It's not our time. I know that. It's not our time. So I won't reach out because I respect our journeys. They are sacred. But just writing this is beautiful because if we're optimistic about it, these thoughts and letters are the confirmation that no matter what, you are still with me. I wonder if I am still with you. Or if you're with someone else. Unlike me, you can't stand being alone. 

But am I in love with you? Or do I long for a feeling I used to know; nights I used to love, not the person I used to love. It has to be you because I can lay up with anyone and not feel what I felt when it was you holding me. 

The time I am taking to analyze this can be put into analyzing a theory in one of these books. I shouldn't be hard on myself for being human but it's true. What good will writing this do? But my eyes are getting heavy. So, I'm just going to close them and wake up in the morning being proud of myself for having the strength not to send this to you. Or maybe I'm weak for not being able to have you in my life. Or maybe I want too much from you and I know I can't have it all so I don't want any of it, at all. All or nothing. I'm such an extremist. That could be perceived as a flaw but that's the real me. 




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