Feeling: silent
Listening to: Lisa Loeb, "Drops Me Down"
Reading/Watching: Dragons of a Fallen Sun

All the things I wish you would say are choking me.

I can't ask you to say them. I can't tell you. I can't prompt you, hint you. Even words of love are only half strong if they're baited with pre-emptive ones. Like the mechanical "Love you", "love you too" on a telephone with a parent after you've been arguing all evening.

I can't take the chance that, even with prompting, I will not get the answer I want. Because statistically, that is what happens, and I don't think I could take that tonight.

I cannot expect you to read my mind. I cannot be angry with you for failing to do so. I cannot fault you for feeling the way you do, because I have done nothing to make you feel otherwise. I've been too afraid to try to tip your hand one way or another. For fear I'll tip too far.

So I am here. Drowning. Unable to so much as speak, afraid of what will come out.

When I say you probably don't want me around, all you have to do is call me a liar. That's all. That's it. Just tell me I'm wrong.

There are times I really want to be wrong.

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