uncomfortable and holding

Why would I be in deep like with someone nothing is ever going to happen with?

Why would I do that to myself? And why, oh why, would I hope against hope that someday…

And HOPE is a killer. Always does me in. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been annihilated by the merest glimmer of it. It’s that potent, that powerful.

I was thinking today, in the shower (or out of it, I’m not sure), that it would never work between us. I’d be my mother, not really understanding that connection he has with his family and being jealous of it. I didn’t used to be jealous of it. Now, it seems, I have a slight annoyance – could it be that I just want to spend all my time with him and want his undivided attention? Surely not.

And then I try to stay away: to avoid him as I do his gaze. But unlike his gaze, from which I hide away from, and never meet directly, mostly from cowardice and self-preservation, knowing that I will surely drown in his eyes and disappear forever, never to be myself again, I cannot stay away from him. I enjoy his company. I want to be with him. I want to hear him talk. I love to see (out of the corner of my eye) how attentively he listens and pays attention to me and what I say. I am completely surprised by his smile and how well he seems to know me. And as I write this, I realize that I am in love.

And I have no hope. Really. I do not even dare to hope for any outcome that could be, in any way, satisfying. Really. What could I hope for? I do not hope for kisses or sex or anything physical. Wow, am I messed up. Statement of fact.

Should I tell him?
This question is killing me. I begin to think that it is all about me – my need to obsess. And that possibility is soo possible, that I cannot discard it.