Are you looking for me?

Why do you look for words from me on a page that I do not frequent? Have I not said that I do not have the words to fully express my anguish? Would you rather not hear my voice and hear the trembling sobs as they rush into me like mountaneous waves?

I am awake now (I should say that it is 2am and I am still awake) and I am still trying to come to grips with my unrequited love for you. It is hours since I should have been in bed and slumbering to rest not only my soul, but my body, which has lately shown signs of being unable to cope with the stress of no longer being with you. The nerves in my toe, lately accused of being from exercise, is likely pains from gout. Brought on by too much orange juice, nuts and raisins, too little water, and an overdose of eggs these past days. Exacerbated by stress.

In any case, I am still adrift and unsure, and less willing to get on than ever before. I don't know if I am much wiser being older, but I do know that I am less ready and willing to bounce back quickly from this sort of rejection.

I'm really not saying much. I haven't found the words to say anything important enough. The same phrases keep reappearing in my mouth like the repeating patterns in a kaleidoscope. I miss you. And then my voice wavers and my eyes water from the weight of emotions welling up in them. I cry and sob in muffled gasps into the cloth of the sofa. I rub my eyes and stifle the un-manly sniffling. Only to see your soft hair and sparkling blue eyes. The part of me that loves you is aghast, confused, incredulous and is standing there in the darkness, head cocked with an expression as if someone has asked it a questions too hard for it to answer. More than that, it is holding up its shoulders and mouth agape in disbelief. I will have to sneak up on it and kill it quickly - before it kills me with grief.

The good tells me that love does not possess. It tells me that you can still be a friend. The evil bombards me constantly with doubt and despair. I don't know why I am allowed to fall so hard. I wonder if there is much left of the believing, trusting, loving little boy inside me? I fear that he is being torn apart again and again by the foulest demons that hate what little good is left inside me. I hope that you managed to see a little bit of him before you left. Your hand clasping mine was like drops of water to a thirsting soul.

I've lost something which I never had. It is a strange paradox. It is perhaps like a bird which has flown away from the gilded cage wherein it was loved. One poured out food, and water, and gifts and love. But away it flew and did not look back, for its heart was elsewhere. It's destiny lay elsewhere and although you knew this, it still pained your heart to suffer the loss of something so precious, so beautiful and so innocent as a bird. You should not perhaps have given it your love, but you could not help it. For you wanted it to love you.

'If you ever want something badly, let it go. If it comes back to you, then it's yours forever. If it doesn't, then it was never yours to begin with." who wrote this sh*t? I hate it because it might be true. I have to let you go, and in my heart to do that would be to kill the love that remains for you. I hope and pray that you have the patience and the courage to hang in there while I do this and keep talking to me. Otherwise I shall never be able to be the friend that I was, and I am afraid that I will become a motionless and emotionless ghost - unknowing of who you are and unremembering of the happiness that we shared. Even if for a short time - It was one of the happiest days of my life.