in between dreaming and waking

I am going home soon.

I am being very honest when I say that I don’t want to. But that, in itself, is obvious.

What is obvious is that I should know when things aren’t what they are. I spoke before of how I felt that there was this sense of relief that I was going home, of how I felt that there was this force radiating from her that I should go home, and please let it be soon.

In other words, wake up already, me. Just wake up. Open your eyes.

She keeps speaking to me of reality. It is almost as if she doesn’t think that I know reality. The truth is, I am aware of reality every single day that I am with her. Yet when she tells me her reasons why she wants me to go home, she keeps repeating that I need to face reality.

Don’t I know that, honestly? I am aware of that every single day. Which is why I am always thinking, which is why it always seems like there is something on my mind – reality. She thinks I am not facing reality. Oh, if only she knew.

But she keeps speaking of it, she keeps reminding me of reality with each reason that she spills out, about why she wants me to go home and why I can’t stay. And with each time she speaks of reality, I feel more and more like a fool. With each reason that she says, I feel more and more useless.

It is almost as if I am being chased away. I know that is not the real thing, I know there is more to that. But with each reason she comes up with, I feel more and more like I am just being stupid and stubborn. Of course I can see from her point of view. Of course I more than can see. But perhaps, perhaps I just want this extra time to know that I am near her, that I can still physically be with her in some way before I go home and begin this never-ending rat race where I won’t be able to get out of as easily as I can now.

Last night, I felt like a dreamer. A useless dreamer at that.

I keep thinking about everything she said. I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking about it. And I accept, I accept every one of her reasons. I know that she can’t be with me if I do stay longer, I know that she can’t take care of me, can’t watch over me because she needs to do her work. I accept it all, I understand it all.

But, oh, the way she said it, it made me realize what a useless dreamer I am. I am not feeling sorry for myself, I am just telling it the way I think. I am just facing facts. She knows what she wants – and I should be proud of her, that she is strong and certain enough to know what she wants. I am proud of her. It is me, it is me who is the dreamer. Who wants happiness rather than money. The rat race – it is for money. My race – it is for my dreams and for happiness.

There was something that was said on TV a while back – what one says and writes are two different stories, because sometimes, people write what they can’t say.

It is such a simple thing to say, but it is one that you don’t realize until it is being said. I guess this is where I fit in – I write what I cannot say. It is the simplest things that have to be expressed, that have to be said before you realize that something this simple is something that you feel.

Perhaps the simplest things are always the hardest and most difficult to say.

Like I love you, and I wish you wanted and needed me as much as I want and need you.

Like if only you would know how I face reality everyday, and how I try not to make reality too hard for you, because I love you.