The wide white space I’m filling up here is pretty daunting. It seems expectant and wanting. Of things I don’t quite know how to give. Of what sort.

A notepad, they called it. An endless supply of space for block letters of dreams confined merely by the illusion of the size of the computer screen.

I am writing again and that is all that matters right now.

My therapist was right. I should kill my filters and just…be.

~:=:~

“I love you,” I said. It was the second time I said that to him, eight months after I first wrote it; the first time I said it out loud, more than two years after that fateful day.

I am utterly confounded. I am now confused. I should be happy. I was happy. I am happy?

My emotions make no logical sense by conventional standards.

And I dare not be the judge of myself because of this, especially not the judge of him.

~:=:~

He asked me to trust what I feel about him, what I feel.

~:=:~

I don’t know what to say without feeling like it can turn out to be a lie in our future.

I remember that we shared the common dream of integrity.

~:=:~

It’s almost as if…after looking for him in so many others after him…I think I have been in love with the idea of him, not the person himself. We have always been the intangible sights and sounds and thoughts to each other for two years, and more.

I barely remember what his flesh feels like. I remember only what I felt; still feel.

I fear it’s the same for him too.

~:=:~

In less than 21 days, nature will force us to face the consequences of our shared past. A challenge, almost, to see who would refuse to eat their own words and make 2D promises into 3D, giving life to hopes once seemingly dashed.

And I fear for myself more than I do fear for him. There are certain truths you reserve for your therapist, if only because they won’t be worth the consideration for the longer run and will be gone with the wind the moment your mood swings up high, again.

After all, how do you meet the person who first introduced the idea of soul mates to your heart and mind, after two years of separation and imagination?

~:=:~

Then again, perhaps, it’s a matter of finding out what happily ever after truly means, to me.

To us.