I met him online some years ago. He was witty and funny, my kind of guy. He made me feel good about myself. He made me feel like I mattered.
We exchanged banters and ended up talking. It was heavenly, hearing his voice,
hearing him laugh, him making me laugh. I felt ... alive. I haven't felt that way in such a long time. Far too long.
Just as surely as the sun will rise, I started thinking of him even when we didn't talk. I started looking for him, needing him, wanting him. It was weird, awkward, sheer insanity.
I forced myself to stop. I knew he cared about me but he handled it better than I did. I knew he felt something for me but he hid it better than I did. I felt ... betrayed.
Why did he not show it? Why does he not tell me? Why does he not show it? I kept these all to myself. I didn't want him to know that I was waging war in my head against him.
Then I realized ... he was right. He shouldn't show me. He shoulnd't tell me. He shouldn't ... because he's someone I should never love and I am someone he would never want.