No One's Gonna Love You Like I Do
I was dying. That was all there was to it. Ever since my memories had come back I had been overwhelmed with this horrible feeling that made my chest tight. William had taken to pushing at my lips which was the first time I realized that I wasn't smiling like used to. I had William and I had my memories and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I felt so terrible.
And then I realized that this must be what a broken heart felt like. I missed Daniel...but he had wounded me so deeply. He had lied and, honestly, I knew all about lying and he had been truly and intentionally dishonest with me because he was afraid. I could understand that, actually, but it didn't change the fact that it hurt me. Me.
And, of course, I had been avoiding him ever since that day. I can be rather stubborn, a fact few people know about me, and I had decided that I simply wouldn't see him or talk to him ever, ever again. I didn't care if William cried for him, or if I cried for him, or if I had no help, or...well, anything. Except I did care, but there was no way I was going to back down. I had principles and I was entitled to be hurt. I wanted to hurt him back but that would mean talking to him.
The longer I went without talking to him, the worse I felt. It got to the point that I would see him in the distance and I would feel an overwhelming urge to go hold him. I resisted. He had been the one afraid of me rejecting him and his love. Ironic that now I was doing it.
Whether I wanted to or not. You see, it really was the principle of the thing.
So when I ran into him near the bookshelf (of course the book shelf, always books) I pulled up short and just looked at him for a long moment. Honestly, I didn't know what to say but I couldn't exactly simply turn up my nose and flounce off. Instead I folded my arms and stared him down. And I resolutely did not ask him to hold me and turn this whole mess around.
And then I realized that this must be what a broken heart felt like. I missed Daniel...but he had wounded me so deeply. He had lied and, honestly, I knew all about lying and he had been truly and intentionally dishonest with me because he was afraid. I could understand that, actually, but it didn't change the fact that it hurt me. Me.
And, of course, I had been avoiding him ever since that day. I can be rather stubborn, a fact few people know about me, and I had decided that I simply wouldn't see him or talk to him ever, ever again. I didn't care if William cried for him, or if I cried for him, or if I had no help, or...well, anything. Except I did care, but there was no way I was going to back down. I had principles and I was entitled to be hurt. I wanted to hurt him back but that would mean talking to him.
The longer I went without talking to him, the worse I felt. It got to the point that I would see him in the distance and I would feel an overwhelming urge to go hold him. I resisted. He had been the one afraid of me rejecting him and his love. Ironic that now I was doing it.
Whether I wanted to or not. You see, it really was the principle of the thing.
So when I ran into him near the bookshelf (of course the book shelf, always books) I pulled up short and just looked at him for a long moment. Honestly, I didn't know what to say but I couldn't exactly simply turn up my nose and flounce off. Instead I folded my arms and stared him down. And I resolutely did not ask him to hold me and turn this whole mess around.