I haven't heard from you in a while, and I'm wondering what's up with you. Maybe you're also wondering, because the silence has been deafening on both ends. Yes, it's entirely possible that you're also wondering, but that doesn't serve any purpose, does it.

You know what they say about no news being good news? That's such a load of crap, and we both know it. No news is apathy, disinterest, or a simple declaration that we never really cared much about each other to begin with.

In my case, there's nothing furthest from the truth, I care a lot about you and you mean something special to me. Otherwise, I don't suppose I'd be sitting here wondering and pondering about the current state of affairs. Still, the current state of affairs is what it is, a silent statement that I don't really care. Or, as I come to realize while I finally try to frame a letter to you, silence may mean that I care too much.

That could be it, much as I dread to admit it. As I sit here today to analyze my motives, I find that my reasons are beyond apathy and disinterest, and go into the realm of safety.

To be honest, I think I was being a chicken and I admit that I was taking the coward's way out. If I didn't write to you, you can't not answer, you can not have other more important things to worry about, you can't not care, because I was there first. So I let time go by without contact to justify what? That I stopped caring about you first? That I experienced disinterest first? If I beat you at feeling completely disinterested, then the secrets that lurk at the back of my mind, untold, will never have to be told, I will never have to put myself in a position of potential rejection, I will not have to bear the cross of your own disinterest.

So I didn't do anything to remedy the situation. I just kept wondering, as if I could do nothing but wild guess what's going on with you. As the days went by, it became increasingly difficult to find any reason to stop this chosen silence and write to you, every day that passed seemed to give me new reasons to keep away, the tick of the clock reinforced the belief that there's no good and genuine reason to bother you with my nonsense.

And, in truth, there aren't many reasons, not really, just an indisputable and worthy one, that I miss you something fierce, that my connection with you is as important as breathing in my life, that there can't be peace of mind for me while I'm heavy hearted, missing you.

That should have been all the reason I ever needed, but that realization only served to zip up, close shop, go away. When did it start being an impediment instead of a prompt? I just... I was scared to admit this type of attachment, because I was, am, terrified to have you know how important you are to me.

I'm honestly not sure when it happened, when I shifted from charmed and charming to scared and boring, what brought on this fear. When did I start being ashamed of my feelings for you? I don't know how it happened, but we both know that I'm a lousy liar, especially if it's myself I'm trying to fool. So eventually I had to wonder who I was trying to justify this disinterest to, I was certainly not convincing myself, peace didn't come, and I just grew more anguished every day.

I miss you, so very much. As I type, I'm forced to admit that I'm scared of what I'm finally sharing with you. I'm oppressed by a heavy weight right now, because it's so possible and such a real perspective that you never sent news because you don't even remember me. And wouldn't that be pathetic? Wouldn't it be so very ridiculous, that I'm now finally baring my soul and you don't even know that I'm in the world, torn for missing you.

All along, I suppose I was scared of revealing too much, and I guess that at some point I stopped being certain of how to string words together that showed a real interest in your life but didn't show what I was hiding, even from myself. I should have written to you sooner, I should have had the foresight to avoid going down this path, this forced analysis of what's keeping me away, this cul de sac where the only way out is the truth.

Did I fool you with my silence? Did you also watch the days go by in your calendar without news from me, and wondered what was up with me? Did my inaction, my keeping away, validate your taking the same path? Or, for you, is it that you really don't care?

I wish I'd been wiser, I wish I hadn't fallen into this trap of my own creation. No news? I wish.

Warmly,

E