Today I read an article on Thought Catalog that, as per
usual, really struck home with me. The title was “I Can’t Tell You.” The
premise of the entry is that the author has an acquaintance that they wish they
could come clean with. Confess that they think about the person every day, and
despite the fact that they don’t see much of each other – the author misses
that person. The writer yearns to tell the admiree – get a yes or no answer
just so long as there is an answer. What the writer doesn’t know is that
sometimes the answer never comes.
You call the person crying about something, just hoping
they’ll ask what’s really wrong because this shouldn’t be that upsetting. They
don’t. Maybe it’s because you had just met their girlfriend a few days ago and
they think you should know better than to think things would be like they were.
But that can’t be it – he’s tried to convince you for years to marry him. He’s
just tired like he said he was.
You finally muster up the “courage” to type out a text -
it’s not eloquent, it’s actually quite self deprecating – and it’s definitely
not the scene you imagined. You know the one. Where you show up at his
apartment in the pouring rain and you look so pathetic that he has no choice
but to take you into his arms and murmur the nickname that he had always had
for you. Instead you ignore the pit in your stomach that is seemingly screaming
at you not to send it and it floats off into cyber space to be delivered to his
phone.
It’s late, so it isn’t weird that he doesn’t respond immediately.
24 hours pass. He’s still thinking it through.
48 hours go by. He still can’t think of what to say, right?
Planning the perfect response.
It’s been four days and he comments on your facebook status
– what is that supposed to mean?
You text him when you’re at a bar with friends because
there’s a guy there that looks just like him and he’s dancing with somebody
else. The first one is a playful
text, “hey I’m at a bar in Alabama and you should be here!” and then it gets
later and you’re demanding that he respond because you need an answer – and
there is still nothing. That screaming stomach pit is back and its arms are
crossed with the “told you so” look.
Another week passes and there’s still noghint. And you have
a breakdown in a bathroom when you’re out with friends and they’re trying to
set you up with this guy. He’s cute and he’s great but it’s not the same. Your
friend takes you by the shoulders and says “if he hasn’t answere by now – I
think that’s an answer in and of itself.” And you realize you’ve been holding
on to the hope that he would call and tell you he chose you. But that phone call
isn’t coming.
Then a text comes – but it’s a mass text and it’s that he
finally got a twitter account. And you reply, because you need to hear from him.
It’s like a drug. And you tell yourself that being friends is better than
nothing because he means that much to you.
So you go on a few dates – one of them even makes you think
you’ll get over it. You think about it and realize it’s because he reminds you
of the one and he’s just a temporary replacement - a consolation prize. Then
you read the thought catalog article and you’re back to square one.
The worst part of it is that you saw it coming. How? Because
in your song they don’t end up together. But you still sit there in that deep
true melancholy wishing things had ended differently for you two because you
two were different.
Even worse. You know you’ll see him at your brothers
wedding, and you keep imagining the scenario in your head. How he’ll ask you to
dance. And he’ll tell you he’s sorry. And he’ll kiss you and it will be
perfect.
You’re a train wreck. And you know it. And it’s probably
worse that you did tell him.
