When I see photos we’ve taken together, like the ones from the road trip we took from L.A. to Las Vegas that one time, I feel a kick in my stomach. There’s no stronger sign that you really like someone than feeling that kick. My smile turns wide and I can’t wait to see you again. I can’t wait to tell you about my day and to hear about yours. I can’t wait to make out with you, I can’t wait to be entirely yours.
But clearly you don’t feel the way I do, do you?
For some reason you keep me dangling by a thread, ready to access whenever you feel like it or get bored. I shouldn’t complain, though, because it’s my fault for not being strong enough to just let go. I’ve told you a thousand times the way I feel, in any number of ways. We made out at the Sex and the City slot machine in Vegas and I joked that I wanted to have like 10,000 of your babies, an inside joke because on our first date we talked about how much we loved American Beauty. Yes, I’ve probably made a fool of myself trying to tell you how I feel, but whatever. When you really like someone you take those risks. When you like someone you’re there for them, you tell them how you feel, you make time for them no matter what else you’re doing. If you’re not, then that person is not so important to you after all.
Why can’t you tell me how you really feel? Why do you act like a boyfriend but then disappear completely, emotionally and physically, moments after you just told me how much you miss me?
When you really like someone you wager almost all your confidence and emotion on that one person. And if it isn’t returned you start to feel empty, void. Is that why a broken heart always hurts?
I know, I know. You’re swamped with school right now and you just moved to L.A. and you’re trying to get your art career off the ground — that’s one of the things I like about you. But no matter how busy we get, there’s always time if we make it.
You know how I feel about you, but you still don’t budge. Not really, anyway. You tell me how much you miss me or you say you’re thinking about me but it never seems real. I think you say those things because you know you’re supposed to. At times you feel like a real boyfriend, other times you just feel cold and vacant.
And that’s a sign it’s time for me to move on. I have to move on.
There’s nothing I want more than to be yours, to sleep in your little nook, to cook dinner with you, to be proud of you, to laugh with you, to see what your next art project will be. But I can’t keep chasing you. I can’t keep reading between the lines. I can’t keep hoping. I can’t keep waiting. I don’t want to be led on any longer.