Despite it all

At times it would seem we are two souls that understand one another.

At times like this, however, my own demons overtake me and you fail to understand.

When we have spent time, especially like we have over the last two days, in the company of others, I feel the need to connect with you. Be intimate with you. Feel you yearn for me the same way I do you.

I want you to reach out for me, want me, miss me, the missing on your lips and at the end of your finger tips.

For you, missing is not possible as long as I am physically present next to you.

For me, missing is possible even when I am in your arms and cannot feel you.

Perhaps it is my own warped perspective. I know these days I often make you feel inadequate, or that you are doing the wrong thing.

You told me that you feel you are walking on egg shells.

Maybe that is why all of you leave eventually. Unable to withstand my yearning or understand how my desire can be so great.

I don't know how to explain it. Don't you get it? When we are busy with our every day lives and errands and people and things that tug and tug at our sleeves and hems, there is a separation that occurs between our souls? One that is felt by me like a chasm. Maybe to you it is indiscernible. But to me it is all I see.

I see you. I see you and your needs and I try to bend and fulfill and accommodate them. But many times, I feel you don't see me.

You do not see the truth behind my words and pliant ways. You choose instead to see the times when I rebel and do not heed your words. To do what I feel instead.

Don't you understand that I mean what I say? That I do not need you to tell me what is wrong or right for me? That when I ask for something from you, the last thing I want is for you to turn me down but instead offer a directive that is what you deem for my own good?

I know your concern comes from a deep love. I wish you could see that my willingness to sacrifice my own comfort comes from the same place. And it is something I don't even see as a trade-off.

You and I are profoundly different.

I wish you would truly, truly realise that, and understand that the loving I want from you is not what you sometimes give me.

Maybe I should take heed. Maybe I should take stock of whether or not this is for me. Maybe your kind of loving, your brand of care and concern is not what I seek.

I do love you. I love you in ways I have not loved others. Ask me what I could give you as a gift and I could think of a million things. I bet you could not think of one for me that would mean something to me and be cherished the way you would cherish mine.

Despite what you think, you do not know me. And yet I love you, despite all that. You make my heart do little flips from mere words or a glance. I am grateful for any little bits of attention you give me that is unsolicited. Why can't you understand that?