“But why do you run away from life and every moment that can make you feel something?”
I stare at her blankly, not giving away my fears. I look into her eyes that are already pinned on me. She speaks nothing but sits with a face that is demanding answers.
Her glance is unfaltering. This time, there is no escape from the question.
I consider my options.
Do I trust her?
I don’t. Heck, I haven’t trusted anyone in a really long time.
What do I have to lose?
Nothing except a fragile heart.
How can I turn this around if she decides to stop seeing me?
I write about her. This moment.
“What do you want to know?” I say suspiciously.
“I’ve been in love with you for over a year now and even though you know it, you won’t even discuss it with me, that if you’re interested in me or not. All you’ve said is that I shouldn’t wait for you, but that’s vague. I want… I want something concrete. A reason.”
Okay, it’s happening. This is getting exactly where it shouldn’t go. Shut her up. Say something rude or turn cold. You don’t have to tell her about how you feel. She doesn’t have to know. But she is asking the right questions and she’s stuck on me. I need her to stay away from me and this is the only way. I’m doing her a favour by keeping her away from me.
I take a deep breath.
“I don’t see love the same way you do, miss. It’s grim for me.”
She stays quiet. The silence hangs between us.
“To you, love is all about a backyard, falling for each other every day, holding hands… things that I find too cheesy, too far-fetched for myself. I don’t do all that. You won’t wake up some mornings with flowers.
“I am a sad story and you can’t change my ending. You’re not going to put my pieces together if that’s what you think will happen here. I come with this baggage of unending, unknown sadness and I don’t want to burden you with it. You do deserve someone happier, who can bring you flowers.
“To me, love is a different concept. It’s intense kissing and sudden adventures and everything that’s often unpredictable. It’s also shutting people out for weeks.
“For me, love exists some days. And you should be loved every day.”