I know you’re tired of me.
Actually, I don’t know what you are right now. Whatever it is, I know what you’re doing is self-preservation. But I don’t get you, I really don’t.
You’re still working on my song. Maybe I’m reading too deeply into that. Maybe I’m reading too deeply into everything. That day you called me, and I was drunk already? My heart soared. I was drunk so I didn’t have to think about how much I miss you.
You said you had to call me “to make sure [I’m] real.” I thought a lot about how that made me feel, because it truly did make me feel. Not just think about what I might feel.
But now… I drop you a text and rarely get a response. Or when you do respond, it’s “that’s wonderful”, or something equally as placating. I asked you to tell me to stop if you wanted me to, I really do understand if that’s what you want. But you haven’t. And it’s breaking my heart.
So I give up. I’ll give in. I’m infatuated with you, maybe even a little in love. But I barely know you. And you’re not giving me any more to go on than I already have. I guess it’s been your Libra rising this whole time.
I hope we’re doing better in dimension eight.