As much as I make believe

Dear Jon,

Tomorrow is Monday. That means, if you are at work, I will probably at some point run into you. At least I have small talk fodder - finally got an interview at that site for next year. Maybe we can talk about that and avoid talking about... anything else.

See, the thing is, you've been totally absent from my life, aside from the conversation we had the day after I posted. Maybe you really did see it and have been avoiding me? Or is this my narcissistic reading on a situation that has absolutely nothing to do with me? In any case, I'm scared to see you. I always am, but I'm putting more meaning on it because of something I've done (the post) which has probably not affected you in any way.

I'm not feeling eloquent tonight.

I'm about to go to bed and fantasize about you more, but I realized a few days ago that the fantasy is all wrong. You wouldn't grab me and kiss me like that; that's not how it would happen. What happens is that I'm very good at fantasizing all the way up to that point, but not beyond. Why? Why am I so afraid to imagine you kissing me? Why am I so afraid to imagine... anything more? It's easy to imagine what you'd say to me, the look on your face, the way you would move your mouth, the crinkles around you eyes and the direction of your gaze - I have your movements memorized. I know your speech patterns and preferred adjectives (oh, I disgust myself!), but I have no idea how you would actually, if it came down to it, show affection towards me.

I don't remember any physical touch beyond that night.

That night. Yes, I'll have to write about that soon, won't I? I was drunk and high (your fault), and my memory is so hazy, until it got awkward and I asked you to drive me home. I'm glad that we didn't sleep together, and I've always been glad, because I thought there would be a time when we would get to experience each other, unclouded.

This process of writing here has made me alternate madly from being utterly infatuated with you and incredibly furious with you. Am I ready to give you up? I always think so, and then something happens to give me some sort of crazy, fucked up hope.

Last Song lyrics:

giving up's not easy
it's hard enough to say

as much as i make believe
you're not really here with me...

as much as i make believe
something in side of me
has got me hoping got me thinking
who am i to assume

Who am I to assume anything about you? Whether you ever even think of me or not? I felt so beautiful, sometimes, with you. Do you think of the curve of my lips as I think of the way the corners of your mouth tighten? The freckles on your lips - I didn't think that was possible, but it's so endearing. Do you think longingly after my imperfections? I doubt it. I doubt it.

I'll be in the office before 9. You won't be there in the morning, I know, but perhaps in the afternoon.

This letter should have read:

Dear Jon,
When we see each other tomorrow, know that I crave resolution. Please either give me no hope at all or dash all of my hope cruelly with a brick to the head so that I don't have to wonder anymore.
-M.