For reasons I can't go into, we can't be together. Not for a long time anyway. For now I'm going to have to be content with the little communication I have with him. I cherish those moments. I cherish those conversations. I wish it could last forever and that we could spend the rest of our lives talking. But I know it can't. And I know I can't have him to myself either. I'm not the only person who loves him. The worst part is that I don't even know who I'm competing with. I don't know in what way I love him so even if I could, I can't act on any of my feelings, for fear that I may make a wromg move and ruin our relationship forever.
But what relationship? Is there one? Or is it all in my imagination? No, I know it's not. I know that we have (had?) a connection. I could talk to him, really talk to him, about absolutely anything. There was nothing I felt I had to hide, or not say. I could ask him advice, tell him random stories or just chat. He cheered me up, and to an extent, still does.
You may wonder what has changed, but I can't really say. The most I can divulge is that our method of communication temporarily broke, and so we had to find other ways to talk, methods that weren't as intimate or spontaneous. And perhaps he realised we'll never have the chance we deserve. But if us being together would make us happy, then who cares? Who gives a damn? Let society think what it wants to think. Let friends and family condemn us. Because, in the end, if it makes me, us, happy, it won't have been in vain.
