Three weeks to go.
Why am I waiting for it to all go wrong? Every pause is a moment for panic.
But he always calls. Always texts.
Last night our video chats totalled three hours. For at least an hour of that, he had me in hysterics. As in, I honestly didn’t stop laughing for an hour. That means something, doesn’t it?
What was weird, is that we spoke for about an hour and then he told me he was going. He asked me to send him some film recommendations, if I remembered. So I presumed that was it for the night.
I made my dinner, cleaned up as it was cooking, and sent a few titles over. Not 15 minutes had passed. He called again. We were online for nearly two hours. (I didn’t eat, and didn’t care.)
I miss him when we say goodbye, even when I know there’s nothing left to say.
Three weeks. I’m willing him to hold out that long.
If we meet and it doesn’t work I can cope, just about. It is a very real possibility.
But to not even get there…that would hurt.
And that’s still possible for me. He could meet someone better. Get bored. Realise I’m not worth it.
I just feel, somewhere deep inside that I didn’t know existed, that we need to meet. Because then I will know.
Just three weeks.