Confess ID : skka4f2x
I'm sorry

Confess ID : 6mrn5c6k
Love is hell

Confess ID : yrg50ueh
I ruined something. Almost a year ago I met a man that I found incredibly attractive and compelling. I was simply happy to finally find interest in someone. He was the first person I had any spark of interest in after getting out of a long term (incredibly fucked up) relationship. And that, in and of itself, was a good sign for me. I was getting on with my life. He was like a puzzle to unravel. Quiet. Beautiful. And talented. He was someone I truly respected. I wanted to get to know him better. And I still feel this way. I still get an electric shock if he looks at me. And it could have stayed right there. Like an idea. In the abstract. As wait-and-see. It might have developed over time into a friendship. Or more. Or not. Still. It had a far better chance of becoming a happy thing (or nothing - which would be better than this) if, almost a year ago, he and I hadn't drank too much one night. I regret this . I wonder what would have happend if I hadn't gone out that night. I would have my dignity. I wouldn't be worrying what he thinks about me. I wouldn't have slowly become more and more awkward around him. To the point of avoidance (like a knee-jerk reaction, I just avoid him, even though I don't want to, even though it would make things easier if I acted natural). To the point where I can't even say hello to him anymore (so afraid am I of "making" him be nice to me). I feel so transparent. He knows how I felt. I know his reason for not pursuing me. A sound reason. And for a while it did seem like he was trying to get to know me better. But I couldn't get over the fact that I had fucked everything up. I may very well have made it impossible for him to talk to me. Just to make it done and over with. For good. Because I felt he already had the wrong impression of me and I could never make it right again. Or some such shit. And I really wish it didn't matter to me. But it does..