Ebb and flow.

Total undertainty bordering on impossibility.

I miss you. So. Much. But i'm also so scared to tell you about it because you would most likely laugh it off and tell me i'm too young for your tastes. Or i'm not your preference. Or you just simply don't feel the same way, which, if i look at this from an observer's perspective, or even, if i just want to be really honest with myself, well... it's just the most logical turn of events that i should be expecting.

But i'm... still holding on to my hopes. For some weird, illogical reason. My brain and my heart are fighting off the more realistic ideas of how improbable and illogical and pointless my feelings for you are.

I will not be as forthcoming as that bastard, and i don't plan to be. That was incredibly rude. I... i have so much want to tell you about this and be free from your invisible, unintentional grasp. But doing so seems to entail too much misery that it scares me speechless...

I really. Really. Really miss you though. Very, very much. And i'll be going through a pretty bad case of depression when this ends... in the most realistic way... i don't want that depression anymore, but it's as part of the healing process as much as it acts and uses heartfelt pain as a reminder for future events...