Overwhelmed

This afternoon I am just overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the sheer force of the emotions I have for you. Loving you for… being you. Hating you for being impossible. Driving myself absolutely batshit insane wondering how you feel about me. Knowing that you're going through a sad time right now. Wanting to comfort you. Knowing I can't. Knowing you already have someone for that. Knowing that you're already busy comforting him. And the kids, too. I don't know how long it takes to really move past that sort of a loss. I mean, I do. I've been there, recently. But I don't remember… Part of me knows that it was just a few days. Part of me remembers that I was still reeling in many ways six months later, or even today. I hope you get the card from Humane Society soon. I'm selfish. Because I hope your reaction is the same as mine was when I got the one for your donation of the same nature. I cried. But it was… appreciation? But also just… Yes, I had my own family to comfort me and to comfort, but I wanted your comfort, too. I wanted to be held by you. And that just wasn't going to happen. So, when I got that card from Humane Society… whether you meant it this way or not, it was like a hug… like a desperately needed hug. Will you feel even a fraction of that, when you get yours? Because that was the spirit it was intended. Yes, I also am just very sorry for your loss, and all of the usual stuff that's not connected to these ridiculous feelings I have for you. But. It's also a hug. The best hug I'm allowed to give you. A warm embrace of love and sympathy and everything my heart knows how to provide.

I can't reach out, so I'm overwhelmed. I'm overwhelmed, and I can't reach out. It's a hell of a place to be. It would be better, if you hadn't been here back in February. I hate how stuck I feel. I hate feeling this way. I hate the idea that maybe you went through it, too. Because it sucks. Not as bad as what you've just been through. Not as bad as it was for me, when I went through it. But it still sucks. But, as I said above, I'm selfish. I DO want it, though I loathe myself for it.

I wish we could just talk. Openly. Freely. No worries about how it might change things between us, between our families. 99% of the pain comes from the uncertainty. The other 1%? Comes from the certainty. The certainty that I've been wrong this whole time. That you don't mirror these feelings, at all. I feel like I must be wrong about that, there's never been one big thing, but there have been a million tiny things. But just… I can't know, and if I can't know then I drive myself crazy trying to work it out.

And now, today, is not the time to bother you about it. You need to grieve, I get that. So this letter isn't even getting posted on unsent. Because I know you aren't there, and yet I suspect that you are, and… I don't want to bother you. You need space to breathe, to process your sorrow. This letter is also just a mess. Which perhaps goes a ways towards showing just how deep this mess I'm currently in goes. I can't even be cogent today. Spewing out this nonsense.

God. When will this end? I need it to end. I'm getting tired, so very tired. I want it to end with you in my arms, but… I just need it to end, one way or the other.

I love you, ⭐️.

I love you.