Marie.

Day 3

I've read and reread your email a thousand times in the last two days. Trying to look for signs that you still love me.   I've updated Amber on literally everything, because it's her back porch that I spent the day sobbing on yesterday.  She read it and asked "why the email? you guys usually text, right?"  I said yes. I figured it was a good formal way to notify me that I'm not to communicate with you. 

What if you're mad at me right now?

You said no communication. But you also told me not to believe the distance you create if this ever were to happen. But then again... boundaries are very important to you. And you stated them clearly. 

I've been making a conscious decision to ignore that boundary and to remember your words. I hope I'm not doing the wrong thing and stringing my heart along a path that doesn't result in ever reaching you again.

Last night it occurred to me that you drank on Friday. I don't know how this knowledge escaped me over the last few days. I mean, I knew it. But the thought of losing you has overwhelmed me and I didn't give it the attention it deserves. So I want to recant my statement that you were putting up a wall. You might still be, but I also think there's a very real chance you're curled up in bed, taking Xanax every 4 hours, sleeping on and off, and riddled with shame. Shame that you let yourself feel this way about me. Maybe you're second guessing if you're gay.  

I know you hate it when I assume things. So I want to make it clear, I'm not assuming this is happening... my brain is just going through every possibility. Per usual, the silence leaves me to fill in the blanks. And I'm trying hard to keep at the front of my mind that my brain isn't so nice to me when it does this. 

You love me. I know you do. The last year wasn't fake. The last two months weren't fake. They were real. Our love was real.

Will I ever hear from you again?