I would reach out to you, if you were here. I would talk to you, if you would listen. 

But those times are gone. I squandered them away on lesser things, afraid of my true feelings and their meaning. Afraid of what it meant to choose the right thing for myself instead of the right thing for my image.
How far I’ve come since then, and yet, how little I’ve changed…
Being away distracted me, but I don’t think it got rid of any feelings I used to have. I think, instead, the absence and distance merely served to bury them deeper into my subconscious – make them all the more inaccessible. 
I have admitted these feelings in the past, to no avail. You are aware of them, you have plainly stated your own feelings on the matter. And still I persist on.
And there are others, but always there is you, and always something unsaid on my part…

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