I guess between the ever so elusive quest for romance for queer folks and it being ever so absent in my household growing up, I yearn for love like it's a a drug or like it's a treasure or like a cozy blanket on a chilly night.
Love is not the same as attention and it's not the same as flirtation. It's something else. Perhaps it is a deep fondness and maybe it does put someone up on a pedestal, but I learned to forgive him, as lovers would.
We didn't talk about it and I never brought it up and I'm not even sure he knows that I was mad about something but as casually as a "dinner tonight?" text rolled into my phone, I chose the excitement of seeing him again over holding a grudge and forbidding myself the one thing that makes me happy these days - him.
I've been told time and time again that love and despair go hand in hand and while I don't know where his loyalties lie, I am sure mine are with him. It's as if betraying him actually means betraying myself and the feelings I have for this person. I can't risk not having a good conscience.
Love has always made me anxious, because losing something as precious as love must feel devastating and so I keep thinking about that. I keep thinking that he'll leave one day but the truth is in the fear, I want him to stay, so badly. I think the lesson is though, what is meant for you is yours, and what isn't will only lead you to what is. I have to trust that I am being lead to the right place, with or without him. After all, we can only be friends, right? That's what you said.











