I don’t know if it makes me psychopathic or delusional, but in my mind, if I love a person and I know they have feelings for me too, it’s seriously fucked up that they are in a relationship with someone else and say sorry to you repeatedly when they’re drunk, even though you’ve never talked about it together, so you know they obviously feel the chemistry and it’s all but tangible to every single person around you.
I hate her boyfriend. Not on principle, not even personally, just because the dilemma exists and he is half of it. The glass can’t be half full or half empty; if it’s half empty, it’s empty. If he leaves, the equation fails. I think she’s just scared of the unknown. I throw myself into it constantly. When it feels comfortable or when I have no choice. In this case, I have a choice to tell her, but it doesn’t feel right to. So I guess we’re both to blame.
I just want to be able to breach the gap, that zone of friendship, when you’re in the bed watching a movie together and your pillows touch without shame, teasing you. Her elbow scrapes your arm and you don’t know if it’s more acceptable to leave your arm in contact with hers or to move it away. If you move away, it’s obvious you feel like you’re intruding, which implies you’re thinking about her in a more-than-friends way. But if you leave it there, it could also imply that you are enjoying the intimacy and that’s also a more-than-friends thing, right? But then you remember that she moved her elbow there in the first place and it’s definitely out of the normally necessary area in which one would need to move their elbow. So it’s all kind of a paradox, because whatever you do, it’s going to mean the same thing – if she moved her elbow there on purpose, she’ll read whatever you do as acknowledgment of the sensual touch; if not, you’re over-analysing everything for no reason.
And then she stays at home when you choose to stay at home alone, and you’re together, just you two, for a few hours. Slowly some strange force pulls you closer together on the sofa. It could be her adjusting her leg and shifting slightly towards you, or you getting up to make tea and then sitting down just a little bit closer than you were before. Before you know it, this painfully slow exercise is complete, and you’re practically entwined.
Then she’ll sing songs about making love and wanting you (but not specifically you, just “you”) while you’re brushing your teeth in the bathroom. And you’ll go to bed but continue to talk for an hour on chat and you can hear her laughing at that link you sent her or the ironically incongruent emoticon you added to the end of your message. She tells you she’s watching a sad movie and you tell her you saw it the other day and she gets jokingly mad because she doesn’t want you to ruin it, but you run into her room and watch it together and mockingly say things like, “This is the best scene,” and, “oh my God, the twist is so good”.
This is the life I live. Every day. It’s torture. I could never move out. I’m in love and I don’t care if I can never have my love. I just want her to be around me. I don’t want to ruin it.
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