After all the tenderness you've shown me over this long year, I wished beyond wishing that I could love you, as you have loved me. But more so, more than in friendship. I want so say I love you. When I write on my public blog, I want to say I love you. It is not a sin to love, but I fear my love is feared.
You've never been willing to love beyond friendship. You've told me that in more than one way. I'm afraid of losing you as a friend. I'm afraid that you will fear me. But know this: it is because I respect your choices that I only write your name here, behind a cowardly pseudonym, when I'd rather hold your hands and say it to you looking into your eyes. You know me - handling the bare truth is always my preferred choice unless something precious is at stake.
This has to have a conclusion. I cannot continue watering the fruits of futile affections. I must tell you - tenderly, fiercely, anything! - before I leave Singapore. I must tell you I love you despite reason and resistance. I must. There is nothing else I can do, no other way to move forward into the future if I am stuck with these feelings. I need you to free me from my own feelings.
It's worked before. I will say hurtful things. I will snarl and rage till you cower in fear or fight back. You will be hurt, and perhaps you will hurt me in return. I want you to hurt me. I need you to hate me. I need closure. You seem to avoid meeting up with me over Christmas, give curt replies to my well-intended messages. Is it that obvious? Are you on to me?
But I don't want to hurt you.
Please Break My Heart.
Please Break My Heart.
(if you won't love me)
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