The pain is instant, and I almost immediately fall to the floor to enter the foetal position. My chest feels as if it's burning, a sharp, continuing sting gripping my solar plexus. Is this it? The end? A few months of longing, a couple of meetings and then we are no longer? If "we" ever were, that is, because our relationship never really fulfilled the definitions. You liked me, and I know I loved you, love you, but we never were boyfriend and girlfriend. Something always got in the way; the university, a job interview, work, Christmas, travel… Time never came to follow my heart, and you never seemed sure on what your heart wanted. And now… Are we out of chances?
A couple of tears run down my cheek as I hyperventilate on the floor. My soul screams, even though I know that for now it's all a matter of interpretation. You didn't say "love", nor did you say that you kissed someone. You did not use the word romantic; I am the one that read that into your poetic description. All you did was writing about a situation, and dedicate it to a couple of initials. Followed by a heart, that is true, but it could be a friend… This is, at least, how I rationalize.
Truth is, it wouldn't surprise me if you found someone else. I am not that interesting, not that attractive. Our situation is far from perfect, and you never said you really wanted me. I myself did not know what I wanted until less than two months ago, and didn't know I wanted it this bad until now. You always said you weren't sure.
My heart races and I try to calm down. It's somewhat successful; at least I've stopped shaking. The initial panic is subsiding, and I evaluate my chances of getting off the floor. I decide to stay here, for the moment.
If something has happened, I expect you to tell me quite soon. I deserve that much. If nothing has happened, if my fear of loss has led me to misinterpret, then that too will eventually be apparent. Either way, I've learned that I don't want to lose you. That when I wake up, I want you there beside me. Perhaps that realization scares me even more than the thought of you finding someone else.
I am calmer now, and slowly I sit up. I look into the darkness, and in it I see a faint reflection of what I've been. I know something has changed, can feel it in the same area of my chest as where the residue of pain still lingers. I don't know what. The future, or perhaps it is the past, surrounds me, trying to whisper hints in my ear. I listen, but do not understand. As I rise, as I think about you, it grows louder but not clearer, and I know but one thing:
Your words hold the key.
