I saw him today. Him. The him who was so careless with my heart.
I knew that I would. Rather, I hoped that I would…more than I hoped that I wouldn’t.
There he was. Across the room. In another time, nothing would have kept us on opposite sides of the room. In another time, we would have secretly interlaced our fingers. In another time, the smiles and laughter would have been real. In another time…
But it’s not that other time. Rooted to my spot I stayed, hands shoved in pockets, casually conversing with friends, pretending not to notice him, pretending the jokes were funny.
I stole a glance. I think he stole one, too. I couldn’t help myself, I needed to see him even if it’s just the back of his head. He turned my way again, I stared interestedly at the table.
::sigh:: Why does it make my heart sing to know he can no more stop glancing in my direction than I can his?
::sigh:: Why do I want to touch his face? To hold his hand? To kiss his lips? To whisper “I love you?”
He was more than careless with me. He didn’t want me. He didn’t love me.
What weakness in me makes me wish with all my heart he could again? This can not be what love does; turns us blind to the meanness of others, makes it okay for them to treat us any way less than we deserve, shifts to obsession when unrequited.
I want to be furious. I want to shout. I want to blame him for making me love him. I want to hate him for letting me wait for him. But I’m not furious and I won’t shout. He made me and let me do nothing. I did as I did because I chose as I chose.
I refuse to be some silly girl who can’t shake the idea of what will never be because some day long ago he held her face while she cried and wiped her tears with a kiss or whispered “I love you” as she drifted off to sleep.
I saw him today. Him. The him who was so careless with my heart. There he was. Across the room.