Not the time to say

I have a lot of things to say. That should be clear by the number of messages I've left here. But there's still plenty that's on my mind. I sit and think about how to say it, but the words don't quite come. I look at the clock and think that I won't have the time. I twiddle my thumbs and wonder if I should leave that thought for another day. I forget some of those thoughts, and others stay with me indefinitely because the time isn't ever right.

My life is about knowing when to wait. It's about having faith that time will have wounds heal instead of scar. It's about staying still so that I can't make another mistake with you. And so I become paranoid about how I say things and when I say it, even when I know that saying it as I intend would be inconsequential at worst. For a long time I had a guilt complex, but you buried it. Since you abandoned me, it's made it made its way back up. I've done my best not to blame myself completely. It wasn't easy at first, and it's hard to be sure when I should externalize.

I'm waiting for any number of fantasies. I'm waiting for you to send me a message, or to make note of something I posted, or to appear on my doorstep. A large part of me says that I shouldn't be important enough for you to do that for me. The only realistic thing I have to wait for, though, is March 2017, when I'll be legally able to talk to you again. On few days am I able to look happily toward that future, though, so I indulge myself in my fantasies instead. When the question comes to mind, "What are you doing?" I answer, "She could reach out today, or at least soon. I need to be here every moment so that her effort won't go to waste."

Of course, if these months all pass then I will reach for you. I will risk it, because one way or another I deserve to take that risk. I truly hope that you're the one who will break the silence, though. Please return to me my peace with your hands, because I'm so scared to try to grip it myself again.