What are these tears for? I'm not sure that I know anymore. I think I used to, but now, not quite. All day, it's a struggle to hold them back, to keep a smile on my face and go about my life. So I work. I don't stop. If I keep going, maybe I won't remember that my walls are about to crumble. Finally, my body gives out, beaten down in exhaustion. Thoughts stacked upon thoughts stacked upon compiled thoughts race through my mind. The tears break through my defences. But even these tears can't compete with this exhaustion and I drift into sleep.
I wake. I jump up and stumble back to work. I'm not quite awake yet. The remainder of the shift goes by in a blur. Then I talk to you; start feeling better. Maybe these tears will go away after all. But leave it to me to fuck up, as usual. I try to help, try to do the right thing, be a good friend, but all I do is fuck up.
The walls just shatter. My head hung in shame, sobs shake me and the tears fall to the floor. All happiness to see you evaporates. All excitement to eat breakfast with you at your desk disappears. Time and time again, I fail. I fall short of the most meager expectations. I feel useless, distraught and so helplessly alone. I am losing you and you're never going to want to come back.
But work goes on. I force the tears back, just above the edge. I push myself to keep going. Even so late in the shift, the work keeps coming. I have no choice but to soldier on.
Then, finally, I'm done. My day can come to a close. And then you walk in. So beautiful. No. Ravishing. Even now, you take the breath right out of me. In one moment of seeing you, I am flooded with months worth of memories of you and me, carefree and happy.
We talk in your office for a while, hurt feelings and annoyance barely hidden behind forced smiles and hollow laughter. I am happy to see you, but... It's not the same. You're not you. I'm not me. I don't recognise at all the two people talking. But you are enough to make the pressure of tears ease away. It still cheers me up to see you.
And then you drop your bomb.
It's just a few words, but it feels like you punched me in the chest. Almost literally. My heart aches at the strain. Anxiety rolls over me like a tidal wave. Walls already gone, the flood of ever-present tears forces it's way to the surface. In the midst of such a brutal assault of emotion, I realise what such a physical reaction is indicative of. I need to escape.
I make a quick goodbye and hurry out without looking at you. I barely make it to my car before the tears break through again. Before the sobs come and turn me into a withering heap. The drive home is unbearably long. I sit in my driveway for even longer.
Why is this happening? What did I do to deserve this? Am I not allowed to be happy? I didn't ask for much, did I? Why does no one give a damn about me? I could go on. These questions are racing through my mind constantly now. Why?
Fuck, I love you.
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