Quiet

~ a story ~


It isn't like I want to feel this way. I don't. I don't want to be sad or upset or feel adrift. I don't want to think on you longingly or hope for something I know will never happen. Because I know it will never happen.

I love you. Fuck, I love you.

I love you so much that I want to scream it out loud. I want to scream and yell and tell everyone I know how much I love you. But most of all, I want to tell you.

I love you.

But I've never said it to you. Will I ever say it to you?

I love you so much it scares me. Like literally scares me. Because I would do anything for you. Anything for you. Just ask it.

You're there and I'm here. You have your life and I have mine. But if you asked, I would leave. I would come running to you. I would find a way to make it work. If you just asked, I would. But you never will.

I'm not suppose to feel like this. Feel like I'm less than. Feel like I'm not appreciated. Feel like I'm not even thought of. Because how are you suppose to know I feel like this?  I never say anything. Anything. I just feel the way I feel and hope for some sort of fairy tale miracle.

Of course I feel like shit. I've been feeding it to myself every day hoping for an outcome that just can't happen unless I do something to make it happen.

I'm suppose to be happy. Joyous even. I have this awesome job. These awesome friends. This awesome life. People would kill for my life. I'd kill for it. But I don't appreciate it. Don't enjoy the things I have or the people around me. Because...

You. You're there. You're always there. You're the background noise I can't turn off. I can't turn it off. It won't go away, can't go away. I won't let it go away.

Because I love you. And from the first moment I felt it, to the first moment I admitted it to myself, to the realization that I was too chicken shit to say anything and have watched you live your life without me, all I feel is nothing I want to.

I want to be happy with you. I want my life to be joyous with you. I want you.

I love you. Truly love you.

But when, oh when, will I ever tell you?