Maybe after this
after this full circle to, of all places, lj;
everything would stop being so effortlessly and definitely
for you.
Used to think that I couldn't live without you, because I made my choice and you were it and it is beyond confusing to be chosen back and then suddenly...not, without clear reason, without even an explanation of why your status quo, years into the relationship, is to hide into yourself.
And I suppose this is one of the reasons I wanted so badly to know what changed (never mind that I wanted to know what I had done because for the longest time it was impossible you could do wrong)--if I were to believe that nothing changed, then I would also have to believe that you have always felt this way. That I was amusing, for a long while, that I was fun to cling to before my life got moved 50 kilometers away, before I started working long hours, before you got fed up with all my guy friends (really hope it isn't that, because they were friends, nothing more; they were friends and not even ones I was in touch with every single day), before you realized you weren't so in love with me anymore.
If nothing changed, and your default is to have me as a friend but not as yours, then, well, maybe you should have just told me from the beginning that I wasn't, that you didn't want me, that instead of finding comfort in the thought of being loved I should have kept on my toes to be so forever. That's what it is, if nothing changed.
Or maybe not. Because, y'know, I'm not very logical, or smart, or athletic, or pretty, or anything else that seems to catch your eye.
And, really, maybe this whole thing was a joke from the beginning.
In which case: I'm terribly sorry to have wasted your time; I had fun; I loved you, more than I can ever put into words and perhaps more than you can ever understand, and. Well. I'm sorry, but if you won't have me, and won't be my best friend (because, dammit, best friends either fall out gradually or suddenly and this is neither; best friends explain things), then you'll be my friend. Just another one of those friends that I keep in touch with, once in a while, that I see when it is convenient, that might leave me one day and that I might go weeks without thinking of.
Used to think it was impossible, but nowadays I kind of feel sick when I talk to you; kind of don't want to do anything but shake you for thinking that you could drop me and still have me; kind of hate you, more and more, every time you apologize for apparently lack of anything else to say. Nowadays I think I can actually get over you.
And maybe I will.
---
What if you die, or I do, and I never get to tell you how much you mean to me.
But the thing is I have, several times, over and over so much that my voice has grown hoarse. I have, and it doesn't matter, not enough, not to you.
At least you knew.