journal · prose

The Moment

Perhaps I am not much, someone that the world at large may never notice, but I would try to bring life to your world, if you would let me. Try to make you happy, to keep you from being lonely, to hold you when you are sad, provide solidity when your world is shaken. Don’t you know? I silently inquire. Don’t you know that we can discover your future together? But you cannot know what I do not say, although you may have already thought of it, and it’s possible you might just disagree. So I sigh and gaze at you, willing you to feel what I am feeling, aching for another single person, just one, please, to believe that the possibility of love is worth trying for, worth fighting for, worth even the tiniest effort. But, deep within me, pain blossoms. Because of the nagging thought, the overpowering fear, that this will end in rejection. That, although I am wanted, it is not enough want to work for. And does that mean that I am not enough? I watch you fret over your thoughts, torn by indecision, pouring out confusion, feeling guilty. And I simply must give voice to my thoughts. I must have no fear to say how deeply and truly I care for you, how passionately I desire to be yours, darling. If I allow the words to escape from my lips, will they be enough to spur you to action? I cannot possibly know until I try. And, although fear builds within my chest, quickening my pulse, attempting to turn the words to ashes in my mouth – I speak.

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