The universe has a twisted sense of humour. My posts about you aren't about how awful you've treated me, or how much I missed you; they were about mourning what we never had. And now? We may never be something.
I was all alone, and at this point had pushed everyone away in my life. I was searching for friends who would also understand the mindset of the desire for isolation. (weird paradox, I know). I had someone message me on a website for loners, and we instantly hit it off. We moved from that platform , to another, and the more we spoke--the more I thought about what it would be like to be with this guy. Even though there was a possibility he could've been a psychopath--the connection grew everyday as we spoke. We shared similar insecurities, mindsets, fears and hopes about life. He was so vulnerable about these topics, and innocent yet so careful about what to share. He backed away at each minute I tried to get closer. The entire time we spoke, all I could think about was how much I wished to hold him, assure him he's in fact worthy of love and everything else he's ever dreamt of--but protect him from all that could hurt this amazing man. My trust towards him, and my feelings were amplified; I wanted to share my world and life with him.
I'll skip over the mundane details, but almost everyday I fantasied about what it would be like to share with you my most intimate thoughts about you. Then one day, my back was killing me. I usually don't care about trying to relieve my back pain--I just go with it. This night, however, was too much to handle; so I downed a few. As expected the new guy we'll call: "FG", sent me a message that night. Keeping my composure was easy, but as the night went on, the pills removed my filter. Eventually, I said way too many things I normally would have not said if it weren't for the pain killers. I confessed how I felt. He said he liked me too, and it was just incredibly moving. After all this, I can say I'm shocked at how much I have forgotten you. I still miss you though.
