It was the ever impossible game of meeting in a circle, matching faces to a string of names, one after another. Your name took a while to materialize in my mind, but your face remained ever so vivid in the elusive domain of visual memory. There was something remarkable, though I couldn't tell what, because our interactions seemed to be limited to a simple "hey" every time we ran into each other and never go beyond "how's it going?" So this impression, that second between excitement and disappointment in finding you then finding you unavailable seemed lucrative. Or at least absurd at best.
And it seems to me like our worlds would never collide or overlap outside of these pleasant exchanges of greetings (the smiles -- you always smile with your eyes; you radiate, and I don't know if you are genuinely glad, or mostly genuinely nice) even though they seem to run parallel like two stories written twice over. Caught in my own obsession with the unattainable and my unhealthy habit of self-torture I found myself devoted to a construct, a dream that I created to keep myself at a safe distance.
Maybe I'm scared. No, I know I am. In the face of the fear for reality I retreat into the irresistable haven of the imaginary and I slide comfortably back into my self-indulgence that ultimately involves no one but me. "Me" is a world I know; "me" is a world I can control. That's why "no" is an easier answer to deal with, not for its harshness but its finite boundaries and predictability. You can spin a million possibilities from "yes"; "yes" comes with responsibilities and promises and commitments. I wouldn't know what to do if she said yes, or if you say yes. I don't know when this started but I think I only expect myself and not anyone else to say yes.
Knowing me I think I might just let this one slide by without trying. Unless it gets to a point where there is guaranteed failure, then maybe I'll feel safe enough to try. Pathetic, I know, but I guess I'm crazy and stupid that way.