January 17th
Dear Diary,
Another week has gone by now and today I read through his letters again. I cannot seem to stop myself from looking at all his mementos either. My mind is swimming with all the times we shared and how much fun we had. I still cannot understand why I was not good enough. I keep playing back through to see what it was that I did wrong and I could have given him more faith in me and in us.
In his most recent letter, he conveys to still care for me and wishes to remain, friends, as we had originally intended. As tempting as this offer is, I cannot seem to fight off the desire for something more. In addition to this hopeless love that I feel, I find myself seething with anger at the fact that not once yet has he said anything to the effect of "I love you" or "I still love you." When it seemed to be no problem for him to express it in secret before. Hell, I think even an "I miss you" would suffice but instead, it has been "I still care for you," which only make me feel even more ridiculous about the way that I feel as well as disgusted with myself for allowing this to happen in the first place. I feel so foolish for having allowed myself to be caught up in a tangled web that only turned out to be full of lies and unrealistic dreams and expectations.
As hard has it is to explain and in spite of all the hurt he has caused, I still believe that he is the person I am meant to be with in this life. It is not every day that you find someone who makes you feel the way he has made me feel and as pathetic as it is to admit, I don't want to let him go.
So, with that, I have decided to settle for this, "friendship."
I have decided to settle for continuing to interact with him in any way that is possible to do so, whether that means I only get to talk to him once a week or even once a year. I have elected to watch him live his life with a person I know is not right for him and I have chosen to keep my mouth shut about my feelings indefinitely not matter how much it eats away at me.
The worst part is that not a single one of my desires has waned. Not one has become less intense, or less aggravating, in the past weeks regardless of any logic I have tried to force myself to acknowledge. I thought the dreams of him would cease if we ended things but I could not have been more wrong. The sensual ones are what haunt me the most and make me feel the most shameful.
I have spent many hours reminising about all of the fantasies we used to play through, remembering all the ways his words would send a fire throughout my body. All the while slowly killing myself with each memory that I dredge up.