cried

Perhaps this is the first time I have cried for you. It is not that you have made me cry, but I am overwhelmed by the list of people you could love and my obvious absence in this list. I have come around again to this confusion. Not wanting to be listed, wishing I were there, knowing that there are good reasons for me not to be among the exhaustive list of the chosen.

I have nothing for you. I am loved and in love. But if this was not the case I would not be among the favoured.

Again I would be overlooked and this is something deep and painful, a splinter from my wild days that has worked itself so close to my heart that I am poisoned by it. I am not the kind you fall in love with. I have never been that kind. There is no chance that I would ever be this for you.

I will go now, I tell you. And you can't see me or hear my voice and I am glad because you would never mean to make me cry.

Sad. I say. Sad again. This never healing wound will reopen periodically. You are close enough to me now to touch it. You are good enough to want to spare me this, but perhaps, with your help, now, we can work through this together.