Wow, eight days, and I'm already writing up here again. Eight days, and I'm STILL deep in the obsession cycle. Still trying to get back to normal, where I love her, but I don't spend a huge chunk of every day hanging on to every thought about her, every word we share. I hate that I can fully realize just how irrational, how fucked up, my state of mind truly is, and yet I'm nearly powerless to control it.
And at the same time, I love the crazy, because in some ways it makes me a better person, I think. Sure, it hurts me, both because I have to hide my true feelings from her behind the thinnest veil of feigned sarcasm (Oh, I guess I'll just have to drive down to Virginia and fuck you myself, haha) and because it serves as a constant reminder that the person I'm SUPPOSED to have these feelings for, my wife. . . well, obviously I don't. But outside of the romantic/infatuated feelings, I also want to be there for her as a best friend, and the constant desire to be there for her as long as she's willing to talk, to be with her if only through a facebook chat window, I can't help but think maybe that's the source of my infinite patience, why no matter how down on herself she is, no matter how futile my efforts are to make her feel better, I continue to TRY because not only am I there for her, I'm there trying to make her see how much I love her, wishing that she, despite how bad the outcome would undoubtedly be, would find that same feeling for me, that we would both cut free of our current relationships, run off and be happy together forever. And then I'd start farting out rainbows and laying golden eggs.
Of course, it can get in the way of me being there for her as a friend. Every time I talk to her, when the conversation ends (against my wishes of course, but I can never admit it), I always have to stop myself before I drop the big phrase, the "I love you". If I weren't IN love with her, I doubt I would ever give it a second thought, after all I do genuinely love her as a friend, of that I have little doubt. But I'm always afraid that I'll say it one time too many, that she'll see through to the double meaning and be horrified. Or, for a more specific and recent example, I started to pick up hints (the kind that hit you over the head like a sledgehammer) that all was not well in her marriage. And while I eventually mustered the courage to breach the subject, it wasn't until the next morning that I did so. I was petrified about making accusations against her husband, because I had to deeply question my motives for it. I couldn't be there as the friend who was worried about her wellbeing, because I was afraid of being the jealous guy with a crush who in some way wanted it all to fall apart because it would play right into my fantasies (see: last post in here).
I know there was something else I wanted to write about today too, but it seems that that demon escaped my mind while I was busy "exorcising" the rest. Ah well, I'm sure it will come back to possess me sooner or later.
