Possibly Better, Never.

Well, here it is. Your birthday. I'm totally sick and have been on my near-death bed for the last two days, and can't tell you all about it.  My days are constantly filled with moments like those. The moments I want to tell you all about.  But I constantly refrain myself from doing so.  It seems to hurt less that way. I was at the prettiest wedding the other day, for instance, I think it might've been the most pretty wedding I've ever been to, and all I wanted to do was show you. I don't know how I found myself in this situation.  I'm inebriated by you.  Sometimes you fill my thoughts constantly.  Daily.  I try to rid you from my mind.  Sometimes I go hours with out thinking of you too, then you have to send me a text and remind me that yes, you still are out there.  It's funny that a silly little text can basically send me right back to where I was.  Upset, sad, happy, frustrated most of all.  I can't believe I let someone have this much control over how I feel.  And I can't believe that you are still reminding me that you're there.  But it's the kind of 'there' that is just beyond my reach. Like I can outstretch my arm and my hand and my fingers, but you're still just there right past my fingertips.  Unreachable.  Unattainable.  And then I die a little.  For a few days go through a slight depression.  Finally kick it and am thinking about you less and less, then my phone dings and there's your name.  With another text.  Reminding me, once again, you're still 'there'.  I really have mixed feelings about it all, and I think that might be the hardest part.  Most of me just wants to forget about you.  There's no future for me here.  Why am I wasting my time on this?  Nothing since the start of this has come into fruition for ME.  Why would it change now?  It's really terrible that I'm overly hopeful.  Because the part of me that doesn't want to forget, it's that part that holds on.  And somehow just doesn't care.  It's that part of me that loves without abandon.  I fight a constant war against myself.  And the part of me that is reason, logic, the part that wants to forget about you will win.  Eventually.  Because you can't hold on to something that you don't have, so eventually the part of me that forgives, loves, hopes, that part will realize that it's all false.  That no matter what it was told, it wasn't real.  And that is the ugly truth.  But until then, I will be inebriated by you.