Love letter # 398

When I remove the filters and look at things clearly, one question repeats itself in my head and in my heart. When I take stock of your actions – and contrast them with your words – I am left asking: how exactly am I meant to interpret this?

When you say that no one else has ‘seen’ you like I have, that you can finally be yourself around me but you choose not to be with me – how exactly am I meant to interpret this?

When you declare that our connection is the most beautiful and profound you can recall but you choose to pander to the wishes of family and the diktats of culture – how exactly am I meant to interpret this?

When you implore me not to turn my back on you and seek my reassurance but you maintain a frigid physical distance – how exactly am I meant to interpret this?

I could go on … and on … but you get the point, right? Or maybe you don’t. Perhaps you think I should be satisfied to wait in the hallway outside. Or leave the door to my affections and intimacies ajar, just in case you pluck up the courage to come in and take part in the kind of relationship you tell me you want.

Don’t complain about parental pressures and social expectations – or the wearing of ill-fitting masks – and then continue to cave in to them. You are not a child. You have choice.

Yes – and you’ve made it. With holding me off, with excuses, with radio silence.

And how exactly am I meant to interpret all this? I think you already know the answer to that question. So no doubt you will also understand the reason for this abrupt cloud of dust.

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