Lovesick.

I am sick from never being able to see the woman I love.  As it is I rarely interact with her and less still do I get to hear her voice.  Simply hearing her voice would be utter bliss.  I have been a wreck because of it.  She is all that is ever on my mind.  I think to the future when this will all be over and my biggest issue will be balancing our lives together.  To have such a sweet luxurious problem… Who could ask for more?  I could be destitute and if I were burdened with such a life as this I would be happy.

This is how I am convinced that she is my soulmate.  The certainty in my mind that even if I were broken in all other ways that so long as she were there I would be fine.  I am no stranger to adversity, so this conviction I hold seems well founded.  They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, yet they neglect to inform you of the pain.  The throbbing yearning that burns into the core of you until it eclipses all other sensation.  I’m sure that I have felt something akin to this before at some point in my life, but never with anything near this intensity.  Never have I known a love so pure, so real.

My empty hours have been full of thoughts of her and subsequently the pain of her absence.  Worse still, the solitude of having to bear it alone.  As our relationship is as of yet a secret I have nobody in whom I can confide.  Nor do I really have her as she has been otherwise preoccupied.  More to that point I find this a little bit unusual for her.  Where once I was showered in pictures and messages I now get a message once every four or five hours.  Maybe a few in a burst, but then that will be it.  It’s odd.  It has changed and it worries me a little.  She is still loving so it doesn’t worry me entirely, though it is noticeably different so I am concerned.  If it continues to change or even stay on like this I will be upset.

Something does indeed have to change though… It has been too long.  I haven’t seen her in what?   Three weeks, maybe a month?  I fear a little, out of sight, out of mind is taking place… I want to believe that I matter to her as much as she matters to me and if I do then nothing is to be concerned about, clearly.  Though, anything this important you have to fret over.  How can you not?  It matters too much.  I would like to think that I would know without question if I matter to her.  I like to think that I do, though our communication habits lately throw doubts at this that I didn’t think I would ever see… I think I’m just being sensitive.  I’m not usually like this.  What is wrong with me?

This has to be love.  I’ve gone insane.

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