"I miss you so much more than words can say..."
But why?
I don't love you. I don't consider you to be the best. I don't find you remarkably handsome or attractive. I don't appreciate your way of laughing cruelly sometimes. I don't like the way you speak, sit and walk. I fear the way you treat other people...
And still I'm waiting for you, starving for you, dying for you...
Why? What is it so special about you? Your eyes? Your smile? The touch of yours?
I can't understand myself. I can't understand you. What do I want from you? What do you want from me? It's just impossible to be in such unreal relationships. It hurts, makes me hungry and insatiable, prevents me from sleeping and studying. It keeps me on tenterhooks.
Waiting and waiting...
Waiting for what?
For you to come for a miserable half an hour or so?
For your arms just to touch me slightly - as to tease?
For your eyes to avoid mine?
For your lips to be close to mine but not close enough?
For your head to rest on my breast like on mother's?
For you to conceal awkwardly your desire?
It's stupid,
it's useless...
but it is so.
It has become a kind of a desease,
- a chronical one, the cure for which is unknown. There are only sedatives to take, and the main sedative is
- you.
So, I'm in a bound circle, in the prison with the key lost. "It's kind of lost in the dark..."
And the worst is that I don't understand you. If you want something from me, why don't you try and get it? And if you don't want anything, then why do you come to me? I wonder if you know it yourself - if you realise it at all. I strongly doubt it. And even if you do, you can't make your desires and actions meet. Neither can I.
20.09.2004