Wednesday, 7:10 am.
Dearest, you sent me a text after we talked last night, “you don’t need to worry about me”. I know that is you telling me to back off. This morning, I wait for you to contact me. I wonder if you will. I know I can be over-bearing or intrusive at times, and I will back off.
I was hoping you would suggest we get a drink together tonight, but I see that you need your space away from me. You don’t want to feel pressure (to fall into bed?). I hurt last night when your response to my invitation for you to come to my place sometime was “hmmmm”. I felt that was worse than no response at all. Like you shut the door on possibility. I feel the fool. I love you, but I die a little each day.
