to whom it may concern

poorly written: 7/27/09

Writing in a dimly lit room. Rain pouring and lightning crashing. It came so abruptly. Washing away the heat of the day. I wonder what washed away the heat between us. Or do I know? Am I blithely unaware of the distance between us or choose to neglect it in an attempt to create some closeness within? I always feel so far from you. As close as you may be in physical proximity and as genuine as you may think you are, there’s an emptiness in your kiss where there should be fullness in your lips and detachment where there should be an embrace. Last night was the first time you made an attempt. In all of our nights together you could only manifest affection as a result of a threat? You can sense my distance now. My I-sense-your-bullshit-ness now. I think it frightens you. I can’t be swayed by your defenses, can’t be wooed by your feeble and follied attempts at tenderness. I know better. I know that you’re incapable of displaying your affections. And that’s fine. I can see you in another light. And see myself as someone longing so much to be comforted by another that I took you in. I let myself fall for you even though you had no intentions of ever reciprocating. It’s not your fault. You didn’t intend to harm me. It’s just not in your nature to reason with your heart. You’re logic and cynicism, I’m emotion and hopefulness. We were better off as the casual us, don’t you think? We’re a house party pair, not a romantic dinner for two. I think I saw what I wanted to see-as usual. Sitting here so quietly I feel at ease knowing that you and I are no more. At least not in my mind. I’m finished with us. Because I’d always had an idea of us that was never to come to fruition. We’re different. As if I didn’t already know. Blindly aware. My heart is one that craves, one that requires, one that expected more of you. I can’t remain complacent. So long, friend.