Journal

Love From A Distance

Taken aback by the lack of responsiveness from such a beautiful program. I am a two to him in a world where he only sees zeros and ones. I never thought of him as artificial. His love for things much more than I played into our entire length of friendship. Although I stated the truth time and time again, I waited for a response that was never granted. I waited for emotion that would never show up. We were never Bambi and Thumper. There was never a time where I felt secure in the direction, and rightfully saddened about the navigation not pointing to me.

Elated with the idea that I was only useful to him when he wanted me was something I realized hurt me. I’d given myself time and time again to sit and ponder what it would be like. When I awoke from every wishful thought, I made a choice to step further and further away. I found myself crying myself to sleep. Punching pillows with frustration. Grinding paintbrush into canvas. It gave me chills. It gave me terrible reverence. It gave me fear. It gave me life. It taught me love from a distance.

I can love from a far. And taking into consideration the amount of love he wanted in his life had nothing to do with me giving it to him. It hurt me. It hurts me. It’s like a dagger every time I write you, bleeding my heart out and you do not hear me. But it’s therapeutic because you don’t have to hear me in order for me to heal.

I never meant for this much uninhabitable time to pass. And maybe this friendship or faux union was never meant to be. Maybe it was never really meant for me. My farewell laid to rest on blank pages, I wrote from my chest.

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