I still don’t know how, I guess I will never know….

Alone in my bed, phone in my hand, I typed a long paragraph. I read it, deleted, typed another, deleted again. If my fingertips could speak, surely they would tell they needed a break from this madness. I knew I wanted to let him know how I felt but at the same time my ego fought so hard with me. It was like I could choke on my pride so swallowing it was the least of all options. I mean I liked him, no scratch that. I ~liked~ loved him. No wait, I do love him. But I just can’t get past the thought that I’m always gonna be the number 2 in his life. Not that I would pray for the fall of the other lady so I take her place but if I had a way, I would probably go back in time and meet him first before he met her and maybe we could be. Just maybe.

I sulked and turned a bit, getting myself in a laid back comfortable position. Inasmuch as I wanted to be comfortable at that moment, my mind couldn’t allow me to. Damn, I guess I underestimated how much he would mean to me. From the 1st time we met, I always thought he was just some other guy meant to come hunting for truffles and leave immediately when they realize they would not be getting anything but he stayed. We would meet often times, have heart to heart conversations, got crazy and honestly I could crack genuine laughs when with him. I enjoyed this.

But amidst all this, something would constantly remind me that he was a married man and he would obviously leave me someday. No two ways about it. I would create these buffers, telling him some true and some made up stories about my love life so he would think I was way ahead of him in this whole dating game but truth is I had found myself swimming in a pool of love for him, drowning, smiling yet filled with fear. I feared that he would eventually do the obvious, he would leave and pretend he never knew me before.

If only he understood how I felt over him, well maybe he would not cause I tried so hard to put on this coat of defense, trying not to show I had fallen for him. But if he knew, he would not remind me he had a home to go to. He would not take me to places where it would be weird for him to be seen with me because everyone else knew his wife. Damn, me thinking about this makes me wanna drop a tear. Makes me wonder how did I end up in this situation. Whenever I try to think how this came to be, I fail to get it. I don’t understand. Maybe someday I will. Just maybe.

Yes, I have an addiction to writing. That’s my Opium.



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