Better Sorry Than Safe

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

I jotted this down on a tissue yesterday while talking to one of my closest guy friends on the phone. I don't think he'll ever know how much he means to me...I know a lot of people can relate to this, so I dedicate this to all the people who have ever been confused in a friendship about feelings for that particular friend. Anyway, I know it is short, but this pretty much sums up all my feelings I've locked inside...

It is 5:00 a.m. in my appartment bedroom, and I call him.

He picks up. There is small talk, and I giggle. I search for more words. The least I can say, without pushing it,

is what a great person he is, and what a nice friend he has been to me.

He tells me thanks. However, I want to say that he is my everthing. I open the blinds and

lie back down in bed, giving up on entertaining the thought of dressing,

and I look at my silky light green nightgown. I would give up anything for him, I think, phone in hand. I don't dare tell him this,

for I know that I simply could not. I pause, the world pauses with me, all exept for the calming sounds of bird chirps

outside my window. It is winter, a foot or more of snow on the ground, but as I lie there,

phone still in my grasp, trying to find words to fill the ever-growing silence flooding our conversation,

I want to tell him everything! I want to say, "You make me feel so new." Truly, he made everything light and serene, like spring.

Instead of cars dragging their wheels through ice and slush, I can see a biker with his fresh wheels across the solid pavement,

and it is clear, instead of the pale, fragile sun, hanging in the sky beneath its sheer curtain of melting ozone.

But, those visions get foggy and I remember that they never exsisted.

And I still cannot bring myself to tell him this. It is an unfortunate truth, a sad truth, that I must face.

We have to remain under spotlights with each other, we have to put on acts, as if one little slip could shatter this balance between us as friends.

So with knowing this and having to smile through tears everday, I sigh.

Because, of course, this man does not know what hellish everday experiences he puts me through. Could I tell him that he is the one?

Could he take it? Would he leave me and tell me that it doesn't even matter, that he was making small talk because

he too was afraid? I just do not know. I know that I am afraid.

I know there are countless times I was a good friend to him, but only a friend, and as long as I kept my mouth shut

I would be safe. Yes, I think I am finally better off safe knowing we can stay friends, but sorry at the same time for not understanding what we can be.

The only thing I can do with this knowledge is sigh and go back to the conversation.

"You're welcome," I say, when I should be thanking him for not hanging up on me.


Submitted: December 24, 2009

© Copyright 2020 Catherine Rudderick . All rights reserved.

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pencilpusher

You intrigue me with your writing, you have a flair within your writing that i just can't put my finger on it but you had me hooked from the very first line. with some tweaks here an there the fluidity of this piece would be on point. But no doubt you have won me over.

Sun, January 3rd, 2010 4:52pm

Author
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thanks! i'll keep that in mind (about the tweaking) when i edit. and thank you once again for the comment, it is much appreciated! you're pretty awesome yourself:)

Sun, January 3rd, 2010 1:34pm

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