Confessions

And there it was, this picture. Of him. That face. That beautiful decent face.

And in that instant, I was reminded of the future I lost when I lost him.

Being with him, a Malay Muslim man, the first, the only, changed me in so many ways. With him I saw a path I'd never seen before and I realised how badly I wanted to go down that path holding his hand. How, finally, spiritually I understood how much I longed to have a companion on that road to faith. How, I must confess, that parts of me never really want to go down any other path from this point forth.

He was like slipping on an old pair of trousers that I always knew I had, but had forgotten how comfortable they were. With him I had allowed myself to fully indulge in that dream of the future.

I worry about him, about the fact that the company he keeps now is company he always despised before. I wonder why the sudden about face. I wonder which him was the act. And it hurts to know it's none of my business. Not anymore.

And I know it's not fair to miss him. To want him back. And logically I know it cannot work at this point in time and knowing him and how his psyche works I know it may never work again. Perhaps at the demise of it, it's easier to remember what I loved about us. What I adored about him. And what in many ways I still do. Perhaps at the demise of it all it's easier to see la vie en rose.

Whatever the reason, despite the justifications, I must confess...

i miss you

And I wonder how you are and I hate that people know more about you now than I do and I wonder if thoughts of me cross your mind and what those thoughts are.

i miss you

it's that simple. but it's really not. it's that easy but oh so complex

i miss you

i miss you

perhaps if i say it enough and click my heels together...

i miss you

i watch too many fairytales

and i miss you...

Image courtesy of ®°ôn|y Gôd Knôw§°® on Flickr.