Le sigh

In order that I don't send this as an email, I'm going to post a letter that I wrote last night and am trying not to send, because I'd rather just have a conversation, which I'm hoping to have tonight.

Of course I couldn't expect things to be perfect just because we talking briefly on Sunday. Of course we wouldn't fall into each other's arms like lovers. But that doesn't mean I didn't want to call you, it doesn't mean I didn't want to rub your head or cover you in kisses. This is frustrating. The conflicting feelings of affection and indifference and anxiety. And I want to talk to you about it, because it's such a new feeling (isn't it always a brand new feeling?)

Ach I won't say that I'm in love. That's the last thing I'll admit to; and usually only a posthumous admission. Oh, the romantic in me wants to scream Just do it! Just let yourself love me! Fuck the end of the year! We'll have that year at least!

How can I have come this far? This has been the most difficult introduction to a relationship. To have danced around the im-possibility for so long, to finally FINALLY have it happen, so easily, and to be trumped by this? Being so afraid of being hurt, so anxious about the END of the relationship that you sabotage it with the cold-shoulder? I can't bear it. You can't do that.

Is this a ploy, I wonder? So craft, you draw me in, and tell me that you like me so much, but can't - is this your way of getting me to say I'll do anything?

I still love like a little girl. Even though I pretend that I'm untouchable, that I don't believe, I still have this wild belief that happily ever after is possible. That wishes on stars come true. Irrationally, I believe, and want you to believe, taht we can make anything happen.