I love someone very much.
If you have read my blog before this, you may know that already, in which case, you’re one up on the man I love.
It’s hard to understand why we will share almost anything about ourselves — tastes in food, what we did last night, our political/religious/sexual or other leanings — but we can’t share the good stuff, unless we’re completely sure about the person we’re sharing to. Or of course, it’s a disinterested third party that we have a reasonable trust towards. Like you, dear reader.
I know in my case, it’s a desire to preserve the status quo. Unsatisfying as this remote-control friendship is, it’s better than completely losing touch, and I’m terrified that if I told him how I feel, he’d dash away (as I have said before) like a gazelle scenting a lion. This way, I can at least love him from a distance. Odd as it may seem, loving him is a comfort when the other parts of my life fall apart.
Still, one day I hope I will stop being a coward and tell him… Just don’t count on it.