Does he know what he does to me? Does he know how his words, even the simplest of gestures of kindness, can leave me breathless? Does he realize that my heart races and my breath quivers, even though he is not standing in the room with me? Probably not…because if he did he would surely push me away. After all, that is the story of my life, the things that bring me peace are the things that push me away the hardest.
“You care too much.”
“You want for more than you can have.”
“You need more than I can give.”
The words change but the meanings are always the same. They are an “easy way” to let me down, to push me away without breaking that which even the hardest of hearts can see is fragile and delicate. I understand it, and I accept it with a smile having known all along that the day would eventually come, and yet each time I am consumed with a strange mixture of emotions and frustrations. On the one hand I am glad, I am relieved that I am being spared the chance to yet again be maimed for the sake of my forever yearning heart. A heart that wants only to love, with not a care or concern for being loved in return. At the same time however, I am left with a bitter taste in my mouth, frustrated by the assumptions that this fragile part of me needs protecting, that my thoughts, my feelings, my soul is so visible and so predictable.
Am I an enigma? Far from it. In fact the very notion of being so alluring and mysterious draws laughter from my lips. However, I would like to believe that the complexity of my emotions, of my feelings for others, is far more than something which can be deciphered in a single conversation. A conversation which never truly takes place, but is instead skirted around until the moment that they assume they know what I feel, why I feel it, and where said feelings will lead.
Don’t they know that I realize the dangers of my own foolish heart? That I, more than anyone, am aware of the dangers it can lead me toward? In fact, it is this knowledge of myself which keeps my emotions and their depths complex and ever changing, managing to care…to love so deeply…yet to always maintain that guard, that little voice in the back of my mind that tells me the pain is only a short distance away at any given moment of any given day.
So why do I try? Why do I continually open up my heart to those I know will push me away? Some might say it is self defense, protecting myself by indulging in the very things I know I ultimately cannot have and running from those that I can. I am not sure the answer is as simple as that. In fact, I know its not. The truth is, I refuse to cease these somewhat foolish attempts, allowing my heart to wander into dangerous and often times forbidden territory. For me, accessibility should not limit the depths of which you can feel for another, or what another can feel for you. It should not prevent me, at any time, from being able to express my heart…and yet it does, because at the end of the day I fear my own emotions. I fear that to express them, openly and honestly, would drive away the very ones that I seek to keep closest.
Is it really so wrong to sit down and express without coy laughter and lighthearted jokes, the way that I feel? For me, the thought is terrifying, and somehow I manage to always escape ever truly having to do so. Perhaps it is because I conceal that which I wish to say so well, or perhaps it is the other person’s desire not to know what lurks just beneath the surface that I so easily seem to keep so calm and tranquil.
Oh but if he only knew the way my complex emotions have spun such an intricate web of yearnings and desires. Of fears and doubts. Could I even begin to express them without coming off as some crazy woman, overstepping her bounds..a woman filled with delusions of a thing that cannot be? Could I do so, without sounding like a complete basket-case? Without seeming as though my emotions and my desires make absolutely no sense? Could I ever find that middle ground?
It is funny the number of questions I ask myself, far more questions than answers, as it has always been. Some for myself, some for others that will forever go unspoken. But oh how lovely it is to dream of the chance to express myself without worry or concern of the consequences that may follow…that always seem to follow. To stop bottling up the essence of who I am. To be free of this burden that is myself.
But alas, I cannot…and so, I am again left with more questions that will always remain unanswered.
Does he know how much I need him? Does he even understand why?
Does he know?