Coming clean

I know, I have a long history of trying to hide what I really feel. But there's always been a reason for it: I'm scared, I'm childish, I'm scared, I'm so damn scared of being hurt. I'm scared of losing face. I was scared of losing you if I had told you what was actually going on with me. But now you are gone, I already lost you even though I never had you, so now I can come clean. It might be mainly to myself, 'cuz no one's ever gonna read this anyways, but come clean at last.

I do like you. Yes, I was flirting with you. No, I don't want us to be "just friends"-even though I was willing to content myself with that.

But if I actually want you to know the whole truth I need to elaborate in the "like" part: This is not a Facebook "like", it is an "I want to share my life with you" kind of "like", this is a way of liking someone I hadn't felt for such a long time, that I had almost forgotten I could feel this way. This is a "like" as in "when you are around me, I'm complete"

I know, cognitively, as a matter of fact, that you would never lay eyes on me. I know you have a happy life with someone else. I've seen her, she is a thousand times better than me. I can't compete with her, I can't compete with all the time you two have spent together, with her youth, much less with her beauty. And is not that I would want to either. Even if I could, I'd hate to be one who goes stealing people's happiness away. 

I just had this little tiny hint of hope deep within my heart you could see me as I see you; all superficial things aside: age, background, looks...and discover in me that someone that makes the sun shine upon your heart, that person I found in you. There was this microscopical spark inside me wishing you would give me a chance.

In real life, I would be now trying to take back everything I just said, but this time I am willing to put myself out there for you, let my bare heart exposed to any possible wound, because I'm convinced you are worth it and I guess because I'm still hoping you'll have a change of heart, because I still wish you'll call me and tell me we need to talk, because I daydream one day I will come home, and you'll be waiting for me on my door and you'll tell me you read this and knew at once I was talking about you.


Now I read this and I see how selfish I am, having nothing to offer, having this humble soul and wanting you, with all your perfection in my life... maybe that's why it was so easy to fake it when I felt I had to...