Just a few more weeks John,
I promised before I sent the text that I wouldn’t regret it. That I would just put it all out there, no bullshit.
So, I did. I waited, I didn’t get a response but I knew you received mine. I’m not sorry I did, but I do feel sad. I guess you can say I set myself up. Everyone keeps telling me no response is a response. Guess, I can’t catch a hint.
Guess I didn’t get closure like I thought I had. I hate that people walk around with these pieces of us. These pieces of me. Or maybe I hate that these pieces aren’t enough. That even with all I offer, he still doesn’t want me.
He doesn’t look at me. Usually, just a quick glance. His eyes never settle on me, but instead look past me, right through me. Which is odd, because looking into his eyes. I can’t see past them either. It almost seems like a deliberate conscious attempt on his part. The last I was hurt like this, I promised I’d guard myself. I guess I haven’t learned my lesson.
Maybe if I cry, it’ll help. It seems acting strong isn’t doing much for me.
Just a few more weeks I tell myself. Just a few more fake smiles, hugs, and happy gestures. Just a few more weeks.