He talked to me the other day.
His words made me think that he loved me, maybe . . .
But maybe he did not.
My heart leapt at the thought of him loving me . . .
Imagine . . .
I pictured him holding me, caressing me,
And shivers rippled through my body.
As I thought about it more, I began to love him more,
And the world seemed suddenly brighter,
Knowing that I was loved.
But then I started to think.
Maybe I misinterpreted his friendliness.
Maybe he just wanted someone to talk to, a friend . . .
And maybe he did not love me at all.
Maybe it was just my foolish hopes clouding my senses.
Suddenly, my world darkened,
And I began to cry.
I knew that maybe he did not love me.
I was lonely again.
Then, I thought again that he might love me.
After all, it was possible . . .
Maybe I was just being paranoid.
Maybe he really did love me, and was too shy to express it.
I almost asked him if he loved me . . .
But I could not.
I was too shy to ask.
I could not have him laugh at me, knowing I thought that he loved me,
When he did not.
I did not want to scare him away, losing a friend, by suggesting love.
My mind swam with confusion.
I needed to know how he felt . . .
I could not ask.
January 28, 1996