The Lonesome

These sounds shove me from my seat here in this place to you. I already know what it’s like to sit beside you, even though I never have.

Normally I’m the kind of person who just wants to have fun. Someone who isn’t easily bothered by the fear of attachment. I can come and go easily. I often don’t care much about how other people feel about me, unless the feeling is reciprocated.
Something is happening here though. And I feel that it might only be happening to me.

You looked so handsome. You look handsome even now, hunched over your little video game. Laughing at something we saw in a video.
I saw you in that tuxedo, standing with your family. And I tried to imagine myself standing beside you smiling, swathed in a cocktail dress, our arms intertwined. But I couldn’t. I didn’t fit there. I filled that spot with someone else. Someone taller, prettier, someone holding your child.
Why did I fall for someone with whom I don’t belong? Why am I the only one looking at you from across the room the way I do? I wish I could catch you looking at me that way, the way people do when they are happy that that person is sitting there. The way they do when they realize they’re falling for that other person.
Why do I continue to torture myself with fantasies of what our future could be? Because that is not our future. At least right now I know that to be true.
I would have your children, if that would make you happy. I would support you in any way I could with anything you wanted to achieve.
If I knew I could have you in a month or six months or a year or forever, I would wait for you.
Even though you are not the one that’s meant for me. And I am not the one that’s meant for you.


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