If I see you through reality-glasses.

Our story could, from my point of view, be described very well by Grizzly Bear’s “Don’t Ask”.

All of a sudden, you just came into my life – and I into yours. I fell in love with you instantly. I felt like this was fate. Or, at the very least, one hell of a coincidence that had led you to me.

It’s a call
I fell into your arms that night.

Don’t ask.

We met each other for the first time one month after our first words. Typical 21st century we-start-by-cellphone relationship. We spent a day together at your place. It was amazing, you were the same girl of my dreams in reality. But as always, I’m too slow to do anything real about it. I went home, and sure enough, a girl like you couldn’t walk the streets alone without eventually hooking up with “the most handsome boy in town”. That slowly put our talk-rate down quite a bit.

It’s the time we had apart to sort things out.

Just don’t ask.

You asked me why I no longer wrote you the way I used to. I had to tell you, it was hard for me to find out just how to write you. I was used to fill my messages with implicit love. But it seemed wrong now, and you knew it. You told me you had a hard time too, but at least you were trying to write me in spite of having a boyfriend.

It’s the work you say you’re doing.
But baby,

I don’t even ask.

When you finally broke up with your boyfriend, the connection between us came to life again. But it was not the same. It was as if something had been lost. Something that existed in that first month, but was so roughly taken away in the weeks and months after.

It’s the love that came undone between us.

And nobody ever asks.

Sure enough, while I didn’t give you the assurance of love I wanted to, someone else came along to give you what you needed. This was my trigger, and suddenly I was back in the love-writing mindset – always making your boyfriend jealous whenever he saw what I wrote to you. You told me to knock it off, but still you liked the attention.

There’s a place and time for everything
I know.

Don’t ask.

But what was I to do? I felt I had to fight for you. You are and were the love of my life. I couldn’t just give you up. But given the circumstances, I guess I couldn’t just go all in right there. So when we met up at a music festival the year after we first met, I knew I had to try to hold myself back.

But when I’m around you still I lose control.

Just don’t ask.

 You seemed to like it when I put my arm around you. It’s still one of the greatest highlights of my life. I let you know how I felt, how difficult it was for me to not throw all my love at you. How I felt that every day without knowing you were mine could kill me, and that the greatest fear was, that if I finally had you, I would be ever so scared that you were indeed just my dream girl — and not made for reality.

You suggest the struggle goes both ways.
But baby,

I don’t even ask.

Now I’m at a confident point, I know that the love I have for you will be able to live in reality as well as in dreams. I know, that you’re the person I want to spent the rest of my youth with, and the person whom I can hopefully spent the rest of my life with as well. But it’s hard when you’re constantly giving me mixed signals. You want to do all these things with me, but at the same time you’re so inconsistent in your attitude towards me. Sometimes you can be just as loving as I am, other times you seem like you don’t even know me.

I hope it’s just because you’re in a phase now where you’re the one wondering if the reality will be as good as dreams. But still it’s killing me not to know what you want. I can’t wait for you forever, but I will.

I just wish you had a little faith.

But I’m learning not to ask.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s