still :: prev :: next :: I still think about you, very often. I am still puzzled over why you never called. Where did I go wrong? Maybe you're thinking that I dropped it, that I disappeared, without a trace. No. I tried to call, tried to talk to you. But you never answered. So I left that one final message, asking you to call. But you never did. Having no means of contact, I assumed that my worst fears had been realised, that I had scared you away. Is that what happened? I would really like to know. And since then, the half dozen times I've seen you, my heart still skipped a beat. Yet it was clear (crystal) that you were ignoring me, looking the other way, hesitating, avoiding. Why? Have I made you angry? Do you think I'm some jerk who made grand gestures then disappeared? Are you playing hard to get? I'm not good at games, but if you are, I'll run after you, I won't tire. Or are you afraid? I have now for two months stuffed my passion down deep down. I've told myself lies, that it wasn't meant to be, that MOR and country really aren't my cup of tea, that the age difference is too great, that you determined being a step-mom is not in your plans, that I moved too fast, again wore my heart on my sleeve, again said too much too soon... any excuse, any excuse, to keep my heart from hurting, to keep my mind from running races, to keep my passion caged, to let one more day pass from morning to night, to convince myself that the dreams that haunt me at night are pure crockery. But all of that aside, and regardless of anything the future may hold... I'd just like to know why... ...and to tell you that, I still think about you, very often. © 2001 (11 october) john r. chase
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