it's been hard to admit that i miss you.
i have been struggling with it for a while now, since before i knew i would, when i did not believe i could. and now it happened and here i am, and there you are, and we're not the same people who met briefly in a place where we could have been so many others.
how unfair life is, that people should meet under such particular circumstances and find something in someone else they never knew they'd miss. i never knew what i wanted until i had it and it was taken from me, and i never knew just how much i have refrained from giving.
but it's not the missing that kills me. it's the guilt at wishing i could stop, the painful honesty with which you asked why i couldn't simply be there, why couldn't i have been born elsewhere, that we might be together. it hurts, because i can't ask more of you, but i don't know how to stop.
i just don't know how to not want more.
