I wish that I could remove myeslf and watch this happen from afar--
as if I were the reader yet still in the book.
I wish I could have first- and third-person knowledge,
but that's not how things work.
But, oh, how I wish it were.
Among other things, I wish we had more time.
Not that the story is ending,
but we only have a few chapters left and sequels take a while to write.
I'm still trying to figure out if we'll continue to be characters,
or if we really even are right now.
But time will tell.
I'm afraid it has to.
I say I'm afraid because like I said,
I don't know where the story is going, but I like where it's at.
There's another more important character from your perspective.
Regardless, I like where we're at.
The drafting process started long before you knew I was a character,
but you know now and knowledge is power.
I say power because all you have to do is flash a smile and I melt.
It never used to be like this--
it was always uncomfortable, uncertain.
But you're so comfortable now.
I think that's part of your power too:
comfortable is the first symptom of complacency,
and I can't afford that right now,
especially considering you don't even have space to rent out.
Because I don't want to merely rent;
I want to invest,
and I don't know that you're a sound investment.
I wish you were.
I also wish your eyes weren't so blue
and your voice wasn't so soft
and your smile wasn't so refreshing.
I thought I was doing well,
but the plot took a turn for the worse,
and now I feel like I've already read this:
I like you,
you like someone else,
I trick myself,
you leave for some time,
and I'm left waiting for the second installment.
But maybe it's different this time somehow.
(There are a lot of sirens as I write this,
and I wonder if that's God trying to tell me something.)
He's been trying to tell me a lot of things lately.
I should listen, considering He actually does have that third-person omnipotence
and is the true Author of all things.
But I'm stubborn, and I like to write too.
Honestly, I have a lot of things to work through,
and I hear you do too,
so I think your leaving is best for both of us.
Last night you were talking about how you watched the pendulum swing
back and forth
and back and forth,
and I just stared into your eyes,
thinking about waiting on pendulums with you.
And I guess that's kind of what we're doing--
waiting on this thing to swing back
with enough momentum to actually affect something.
The way you look at me isn't anything special,
but I hope you see that the way I look at you is.
I don't know how to end this,
except with that I know I don't want this--
whatever it is or isn't--