No, I am not in love.
I’m just intoxicated by your kisses, addicted to your embrace, high on having your eyes on me, but no. I’m not in love. Even though people around me say I smile whenever I say your name or that my face lights up whenever I talk about you, I’m just not ready to admit it yet.
I will admit that I want you, long for you, always want to be with you. I admit that I start missing you five minutes after being away and that my mind is always filled with thoughts of you. I know that I wish you’d never be out of my sight, that we’d spend every day together, but does that already mean I’m in love? No. It doesn’t prove anything.
Will it really make a difference if I do or do not love you? Will it change anything for you? Do you even care?
I don’t even know what I am to you if I am anything at all. For all I know we’re just playing a game and the rules are yours to dictate; and the rules you have laid out say I lose if I fall in love. See, I don’t care much about losing so I won’t admit I’m in love. I don’t want to lose this game.
Stubborn pride, you say? Maybe it is. Maybe I’m just too proud to admit defeat or maybe I’m just trying to protect myself because losing a game like this can be very painful and can inflict a wound that may take forever to heal.
Someone just told me: if you’re not brave enough to take the risk with somebody, then you should be strong enough to be alone.
At this point, I can only say I’m gathering my strength. I just can’t say whether I’m using my strength to brave the risk or reserve it to survive loneliness.
