Dear idiot

I missed you a lot these past few days. I don't know whether it was becasue of what happened at the weekend or simply the fact that you should have been there with us and everyone noticed your absence. We all missed you. I'm fairly sure I missed you the most. I ache constantly. It's hurt before but not like this. Maybe it's because this time feels more real. I know it's real because I care about you so much as a friend, and because it could have worked for us and it should have worked and I don't know what went wrong in your head but one day I'd like to know.

I'm torn between giving up on our friendship and saving myself more pain but that hasn't worked out so far because I'm missing you more than ever. You're on a knife edge and on the other side is the possiblity that we can put this behind us, that I can put this behind us and we can go back to normal on the condition that you never mention to me or to anyone else the way I feel about you, and that you never give me any reason to be jealous.

I though that the email would be more of a release than this. But what use is me telling you exactly how I feel if I don't get a response, even if it's a confirmation that you don't feel the same way. Yes, I do want you to tell me things I already know. It makes them more final, and let's face it, it's not as if I havn'e been wrong second guessing you before now. I'm still struggling, but I suppose I'm just going to have to tread water until the currents die down. I wish I knew when that would be.

You're so far away from me, and tomorrow it will be further. I wish I didn't love you, you idiot.