I get the rules. What I don’t get is the intent.
Why encourage me to weave myself into your life?
Why spend a year feeding me a fantasy,knowing all along you’d eventually walk away?
Perhaps I’m the naive one.
In fact, I must be.
I sat there, convinced I was your “Mrs. Jones” , humming along to a song whose lyrics I didn’t actually understand until now.
To be fair, he laid the ground rules from the start: no falling in love.
I understood the assignment.
I was certain I wouldn’t cross that line.
Besides, I had convinced myself that someone as broken as I was lacked the capacity for love anyway.
So, I agreed, and we became a part of each other’s daily lives.
I can’t speak for him, but I grew to love being part of his world.
I had always carried a quiet hunger to love and care for someone, and finding that outlet in him brought me a peace I hadn’t expected.
What I failed to realize, however, was that while I was finding a home in him, he was still just following the rules.
Imagine this:
You confess. He goes silent.
Not a single word.
You’ve created an awkward situation.
He’s in an awkward position.
You? You’re just dying.
Message read. No reply.
Do you double-text to “explain”?
Do you pivot and claim it was just an April Fool’s joke?
Or do you just accept your fate and vanish from the face of the earth?
Millypede 