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.
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jackofallgeeks) wrote2003-02-25 12:21 am
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Do you want to know the truth?
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