Hi all, this is my first submission here, and I hope you like it. I didn't really know what genre this (and most of the other things I write) belongs to because I don't usually write "stories" but rather expressions of a particular thought that I have in my mind. Anyway, let me know what you guys think.
Mindstorm
Unrequited love. I never thought I'd ever be on its pier, watching the dark horizon for any sign of light. The answer to the question of whether or not it really is unrequited has yet to emerge condensed from its cloudy nature. But it's always raining in my mind and as the drops fall, they speak to me what has yet to emanate from the synchronous production of her perfect lips and her perfect voice: she does not love me.
It is a storm that has brewed in my mind; drawing its strength from the unrelenting current of my pessimistic, yet rational thoughts. How could she possibly love me? What good would I do her? I am nothing compared to the one she still thinks about at night.
The sound of the storm deafens me and this deafness has muted my speech. I can never tell her the truth. But she already knows, doesn't she? How could she not know? She simply refuses to acknowledge it. Yes, that's it. In this way, we both have the same goal: to preserve the friendship that has served us so well. If there is one thing that has never failed us thus far, it is that friendship.
But the tempest in my mind never calms. Her love is its only subsider. How I wish it would end! Being a firm believer in the power of honesty, I constantly question my silence. I could tell her the truth. But I have never faced rejection as my previous endeavors have been few and far between and have always involved the certainty that comes with requitement. Though, I am not afraid of rejection, but rather of its consequences on the friendship that we both hold dear. We would never be the same again. She would question my every gesture, my every action, my every touch, and all of my motives.
No, I cannot risk this.
But, what if, by some misfiring of the neurons that control her rationality, she does in fact, love me?
Nonsense.
This storm will continue to live on, and will surely consume me, from the inside out. That is my fate.
