I am his friend. That’s the way he sees it.
I am desperate for him to be my friend. For so long, he was my best friend. I would say he still is. If something is wrong, he is the person I want….that’s a best friend, right?
Mostly, I am ok with that. I would rather him as a friend that nothing at all. I want him in my life. He gets me, he knows me, he makes me laugh.
I have been doing ok with that, with the friends thing but the recent
“…why wouldn’t he want to go on a date with you, you’re awesome and gorgeous…”
and all the little comments, the inside jokes, the texts of an evening for a chat…it hurts my heart. It makes me ache. It makes me cry. I miss him.
I have a date tomorrow night. Nothing serious but I have to try and get out there even if it’s just to prove to myself that I can…but I don’t want to.
I just want to curl up with someone on the sofa. Share a laugh. Share a giggle. Share a life.