My Dearest Claire,
It's been about six months now. Do you ever think of me? I still think about you. Most of the eight-hour trip home tonight was spent thinking about you. I suppose that happens when one grabs a Country CD instead of the Savatage they had expected.
This letter isn't meant to be a lamentation. It's a confession.
I'm content with the way things are. I can't tell you what it means to me that you and I are still friends, after all the horrible break-ups I've seen, both first- and second-hand. My confession is simple, almost obvious. I still haven't given up on 'us.' We haven't been together for six months now, and I still... I don't know. I'm not even sure really what I want anymore. I had had everything organized before August came around. I knew my priorities, I knew where I wanted to be in five years, and ten, and twenty...
Now I don't know anything. I don't know what I want to do, or how I want to do it, or anything. I don't know if I want a relationship or if I like the Single-life -- it's not like I haven't spent most of my life single anyways. But everything I though I knew... I know I was happy with you, and I know I want to be happy again.
I don't know how things can be different. I want them to be, but the block we hit was a sturdy one. I think I may have found the hints of a fracture, but only if you were still interested. No matter what I do, it doesn't matter if you don't want me. As it is, though, we're just friends. And I can live with that, I think. I would rather be tormented and have you near than to remove this burden and see you walk away.
Maybe one day you'll read this.
-Andrew
What it comes down to is that I chose my Faith over the woman I love.
I still haven't decided what this says about me.
no subject
One may also argue that certain situations are too subjective to be labeled with truth.
But, one might finally conclude that I'd be interested in the thoughts of others, else-wise the Comments function would have been disabled, don't you think?