If I Could Only Tell You...

If only I could just tell you. To say all that I've been holding in. To just ...gain that courage.

I know why I'm not yet. But I don't even know how that time will come--if it comes. To look you in the eye and just say it. I wonder if that's the very thing that would change everything. I wonder if that's the very thing that'll finally open your eyes to understand me...completely.

Or maybe it'll be the very thing that'll mean almost nothing to you.

I can only think of the times that we've spoken--just over the phone--and it took me quite a while to say what I wanted to say. You'd tell me "Spit it out," and eventually, after enough time passed, I finally started opening up.

Why did you even bother trying to get it out of me when I was stubborn? Why did you stay on the phone for hours talking aimlessly for most of the times? Why did you make time for me so we can go eat or hang out?

I tried so hard to ignore myself so that you may be happy. I knew I could never ask for anything more than what you wanted.

And now I do wish to still smile. Hoping that nothing will ever change, unless God wills it.

If I could only tell you, I wonder what it would mean. If I could only tell you, I wonder what would happen. If I could only tell you, I wonder if it would change anything... I wonder if you'd realize more than ever who I really am...and who you are to me.

I feel like I've been through this before. I feel like I'm repeating exactly my life before you. I feel like I'm making a big deal over the smallest matter--except it's not a small matter.

I feel like if I wanted to, I could easily brush this off and move on with my life. But the more I pray, the more I want to see that breakthrough. The more I pray, the more I WANT to stay where I am today.

Here. Me as me. You as you. And with all the more reason to keep going. To believe. To look forward to the unknown, knowing it'll be great.

What am I even saying? 

What am I ever saying? I'm writing a letter to no one. I'm writing a letter in a blog with no addressed name. It's not being sent to you. It's just here. Possibly being read by the wrong person...

Maybe that's why I wrote it..

How many letters will you send him, Stephanie, that aren't sent directly to him before you tell him? How many things will you write with sincerity until he's gone?

How many nights will you lay awake thinking about it until it's over? How many tears will you allow to fall down your cheek and onto your pillow before you give up?

What is there to give up on?

A friendship shouldn't be confusing for you. A friendship should just BE. Isn't that exactly what he told you?

What is this friendship? WHY is it here? WHEN did it form as a friendship?

I wish I could tell you everything. But the only thing I can get out into this blog is...

You're the only person I've ever felt that understood me...just as I am.

Your Friend,

Stephanie

P.S.

If only we could just start over...