The well has run dry. There is no one else I can turn to for help. I’ve exhausted all sympathy. Apparently I’m a masochist. Maybe it really is me. Is it me? I really don’t think so. I’ve come so far, yet I feel myself falling backwards into an abyss. I don’t know how to climb out by myself, every opportunity for someone to pull me out has long passed. I just keep digging myself in deeper. I keep making mistakes. I think it’s me.
I sat there, looking at the phone today, checking your location for the 80th time like an idiot. Debating. What good will it do to even ask you? Am I really going to leave if the answer is what I think? Even if you tell me it’s not, will I believe you? Again, what good will this do? Why put myself through this? I should just go to sleep and pretend I never looked.
But I can’t, the temptation is too strong to ask you. I need you to comfort me. You’re the only one who can. But I asked and I got half the answer I didn’t want mixed with half the one I wanted. I was in too deep. I’m proud of myself for not falling in as far as I could have, but I went deeper than I should. I’m teetering on the edge of insanity. You seem to care some, but not as much as I would like.
Let me create my fantasy world here. Where everything is tinted rose. I asked and you called immediately. You told me no, of course you weren’t inside. You were just walking around on the street taking in the sights, alone. You were thinking of me, wishing I were there. You tell me you love me, and I believe you. A sense of calm washes over me, I realize the time. I realize how stupid I was for doubting you. I tell you I love you. I tell you I wish more than anything that I could be there with you. I tell you goodnight, that you’ve made me so happy and I drift off to sleep, renewed.
I wish more than anything that this were what happened instead.