I have no absolute proof, but its rare anyone ever does. The most we usually have is conjecture gathered from opinions, speculation, and observation. This is my final note on this subject- I’m naive, but I’m perceptive. I’m innocent, but I’m not blind. And with my eyes I can see the same thing everyone else can. It’s obvious you never got over her, and probably should have waited longer before jumping into things with me (or maybe shouldn’t have gotten into them at all). Equally obviously, she adores you. Just date her again already (this is me being pragmatic and completely serious, happiness= best possible alternative, and I think it would make both of you happy). The only thing I will blame you for is lying (the needle on my trust-o-meter is falling lower and lower, maybe unjustly).
Then again, this is all conjecture, mere hearsay. No proof, simply the intuition of the world in general.
But what else can I make judgments off of? Material evidence consistently conflicts with all testimonies, and actions speak louder than (and in opposition to) words. If I’m wrong I apologize right now, if not then at least we will finally have the coveted openness that was apparently lacking and everything will come to a proper conclusion (one that even eclipses its beginning- something quite acceptable at this point.)

We used to talk. We used to talk all the time. In class, in-between classes, at lunch, when he drove me home. When we weren’t talking in person, we were on the phone, or texting, or IMing. If we weren’t doing one of those, we were waiting for the chance to.
Now, I may get a stray IM, maybe a side-comment. Even those, I know, take a lot of self-pep talking to manage. But before I was the one person I knew heard almost everything that was going on in his life. I was the one person I knew he was talking to at 1 in the morning when we were both dead-tired, the one person he actually kept a continuous conversation going with at all. He was more than just the person I was dating because I don’t ever want to just date someone. He was a good friend, almost as good as those I’d had for much longer because of how much I trusted him, talked with him, and spent time with him.
And suddenly here I am, having to get completely reacquainted with him, as though even the friendship we once had didn’t exist. But the prior friendship was tinged with an innocent lust, and now it needs to be completely clean. So we are starting over and I have to reassess everything I thought I knew about him, everything I thought was constant. I am no longer sure I ever knew him at all, I just thought I did.
And starting over wouldn’t be half as hard, if it didn’t feel like every step I try to take in that direction leads to alienation. Other people can laugh and smile and touch his shoulder while gesturing, with me there has to be a wall. Other people can watch him closely when he talks, if I did (the way I used to) it would make both of us uncomfortable. Other people can sit near him, but I have to keep distance. And even if I didn’t have to as part of an unspoken taboo, I would want to, at least for now- it’s easier that way.
But when every kind thing I say is perceived as flattery in some ill-fated attempt to gain favor, all it does is blemish our relationship farther. I’m tired of not being allowed to care at all when other people can.
The fact of the matter is, I lost more than just someone to go to the movies with, I lost my companion, my friend, and it seems unlikely our friendship will ever be as deep. And I have to pretend not to want it to be.

At one point it was a mere flickering glance, an imagined hope that other eyes lingered as long as my own did. Any time I thought I felt something it had to be immediately discounted because anything I could have felt wouldn’t have been allowed on either end. And yet the hope persisted despite countless self-inflicted blows that perhaps, perhaps, I wasn’t completely hallucinating after all.
For a little while after I realized the gravity of my situation, I still couldn’t keep eye contact. It was too painful to acknowledge something existed that I would have to ignore; it was much easier to believe nothing existed at all.
When I finally arrived at the point where I was able to look, allowed to, expected to, eyes met mine. I have to admit I didn’t take advantage of this often enough- I was too shy.
And now, its finally getting to the point where I’m not avoided again, although no longer sought after. The looks have gotten past the probing but concerned, “Are you okays?” and instead are conveying shrugs, sarcasm and worry. Indifference often, but not always. Or to counter my raised eyebrows, they say “And your point is? Look away, its not your place to criticize.” Sometimes I’m simply not sure what they mean any more than that we both picked that moment to look up. I’m still watched when I’m reading or looking away like I was at the beginning, and this time I don’t doubt my perception. But the motives confuse me, why? I guess the same way my eyes still manage to cling to his, they just have to. Even if our minds have taken the practical step and begun (or maybe even finished, Lord only knows) disentangling our emotions and thoughts from each other, our eyes are drawn to habit. And habit says it used to be okay. And logic says maybe we want approval, or maybe we scorning it. Maybe we just want acknowledgement. It’s been to much to pretend we never met. But we are both forced to pretend that there was never more than a vague attraction between us.
So nothing happened. Nothing ever happened.

I keep telling myself I’m apathetic. It’s my constant chant, my mantra. And I know that I’m lying. The only lie I’ve ever had on this front. I ‘m almost to the point where I don’t care. But I spent so much time caring it’s hard to just stop.
I was talking on the phone to Mandy, just talking (about the last week, but also about the months that came before), and she listened patiently. Finally she said, “You REALLLY liked him didn’t you?” While the whole rest of the day I had been almost okay, that struck hard. I DID really like him. I really really really really liked him. No matter how horrible I had been feeling, I still really liked him. And that shouldn’t be a shock because I had said it aloud before, and before I was allowed to say it. In fact, in the past it had been whispered to me even before I had the chance to say it myself. But I had meant it. One of his emails said, “I have never once had any kinds of doubts about how you feel for me.” Because how I felt about him was genuine. When I said I missed him, I meant it. When I said I loved him, I meant it. And so maybe it shouldn’t be taking me this long to return to normal, but if everyone understood exactly how much I let myself like him, how much I let myself care, maybe they would understand.
Because to my knowledge, and it least on my end, there was no arc of decline. I was concerned about the stress maybe, but my feelings stayed the same, my character stayed the same, everything about me stayed the same. And if (according to him, and our friends) who I was was the perfect match for him, and if who I was was who he wanted, and if who I was was someone he professed to love, and I never changed…. then what happened? He told me he wanted to make me a huge part of his life, and then cut me out of it. And I guess when he said he wanted to date me for as long as possible, somehow in my mind that quantified as more than another two months.

I’m apathetic. I’m apathetic. I’m apathetic.
After all, its not like I ever had any reason to believe that he would care about me, right?

I wrote an email to somebody I cared about, somebody I had a right to expect cared about me back. This email said I love you and I miss you, every last detail, and I am concerned because we haven’t had time to be together. And the reply was that I was right, we didn’t have time. And he wouldn’t make time, there never again would be time for us to be together because he simply did not care about me enough to make it. Or maybe that inst fair. He cared, but other things mattered more. And sometimes they do, but it hurts not making the priority list. I was important, but not important enough he told me.

And yes, he said, he had once really wanted to be with me, but somehow he’d had a lightning-fast change of heart. He said he was scared of being open with me. (Because I would have been oh-so-inclined to hurt him, this person that I cared-still care-about) He thought it would hurt me if he told me the truth, whatever the truth really was. Apparently the thought never occurred it might hurt more to have him wait and to never know when this ‘paranoia’ started. I didn’t do anything to make him paranoid. I never would and he should know that. I wasn’t asking for his life, but I was asking for some time now and then, and I was asking for some coveted place in his mind where I was cared for and safe and loved.

I sent him this email to say that I loved him, and was worried about how we were doing. And his response told me that he didn’t want there to BE an us. I’m upset for now, but so what? It’s high school, I will live. I wont hate him forever, I couldn’t. I wont stay upset for too long, at some point I will move on. And at some point, I will either stop caring for him, or care for someone else more. Because that’s the healthy thing to do, and that’s what hes doing, and that would make it easier on everyone. It would make it easier on him if I didn’t repeat those familiar last words- goodnight, sweet dreams, I love you. But there wasn’t a response (and won’t be). I wasn’t expecting one.

Goodnight, thank you for listening, or maybe reading, (probably not since everyone thinks this blog is discontinued, but) sweet dreams, and (platonicly) I love you.