It's something you can always count on. That I've been writing and thinking. Writing and thinking about you or something else, sometimes both. When I get it into my head that I want to be around a specific person and I can't, I'm not the kind to simply
go out and find another person to take your place.
Life would be simpler, perhaps, if I could. You would likely feel better if you found that this is what I did. It would make more sense, since company would be what I seem to want, than to
sulk and sit at home and write instead. I don't want anyone else. If I can't be around you, I'll wait until I can or until the desire to be with you is replaced by the desire to be with someone else, one of my other few
friends.
There are some people that I want to be with and I know that I can't, that I never will, and that I need to just get over it. People say that it seems clear to them that I have no problem letting go of people in my life, that I push people away all the time. Part of that is true. But I never forget about them. I never stop thinking about them. My ability to be around the same person in close contact for long periods of time may be shorter than others, but, well, few people that I want that from are not here.
It was so clear, at the time, that I made the right decision to let someone go. It's never that clear now when I miss them, when I regret. I'm trying to not do that, but it's slow going. I commended my friend Byzantine on his ability to not have me push him away thus far (we've been friends for about 5 months now). He agreed on my theory as to why, the credo he needs to hold fast to: do not fall in love with Laura and do not let Laura fall in love with you. So far he's doing an excellent job.
It's not that I fall in love easily or that my male friends fall in love with me easily. But I have had this problem about not making myself clear which I am going for when I meet a new male friend. Mike says that since I approach men in the guise of friendship, that they will likely respond in kind, even if I am hopeful on another avenue in my mind and I haven't revealed it early in the game. This is likely how I confused another guy, whom I fell hard for and then pushed away when I felt it wasn't being equally returned. It may well have, but we'll never know, will we?
So I write. About him, to him. To others, about others. Sometimes in the hope that they will read it and confront me, give us an excuse to talk, sometimes just to get it off my chest. And sometimes, to warn even others should they decide to get tangled up with me. You have been warned.