I Think We Are Something, But I Don’t Know Quite What


I thought we had something.

Something different and true and great. Something to start with, to build on and to carry with us for a while. That’s why I didn’t try my best to keep you away from me like I’m used to do. That’s why I didn’t keep you at arms’ length, way behind my high tough walls; white from the outside but so stained and cracked from the inside.

I really thought we had something. Really. Genuinely. It was crazy. I really thought we had something. It was the beginning, I was confused because it was so new.

But that “something” was never clear. This “something” is still not clear… For what is it, for what it means, for what it’ll be.

So I’ve lost myself in this so confused “something”, vainly trying to find the right definition that would fit in.

I’ve searched it in the term “friendship” because that’s the one I know the most. I’ve searched its meaning everywhere, trying to find a kind of alternative one that could stick to us, to our “something”. Trying to find the little crack or unclear term that could explain what we are. But still, we never fit in. Always, it was always the same meaning, with no blurry edges, with no hidden meaning, no ambiguity, no “but if”, not even the slightest “maybe”.

So I got cocky and searched for our meaning in the following stage. I’ve searched for it in “relationship”. The romantic one. The one that all my friends have found and are building on. The one where you find another half that seems to be the one. Where you have their hand, their soul, their heart. Where the “lives to be” are tangled, where the teasing games are clear on what they want and on what they mean. But still, it wasn’t quite us. Something was missing…

Something was missing from us, or too much from it. It wasn’t a loving relationship, we were missing some pieces. We were missing the unconditional love showed to the world, where no secrets are kept, where no one backs off when one can’t hide anymore behind the ambiguity. We were missing the real touch, way over that “teasing touch” we were giving to each other. We were missing the unashamed display of affection, of interest. We were missing the kisses, the heat of our bodies, the lust exploding in the intimacy of the sheets… We were missing the clarity of a romantic relationship when both parties know that they’re together in this crazy thing called love.

And it wasn’t just a friendship either. Our “us” was suffocating in the edges too tight of this definition, overflowing the rims of the mold in which I had shaped each one of my friendship. We just couldn’t fit in, we were too much, too caught in our unclear teasing games, always pushing away the boundaries of a simple friendship, replacing them with blurry lines of ambiguity and uncertainty. Your hands were too casual, too wandering, my body too thirsty of your touch, I wanted too much to know each dusty corner of your mind, and you were imposing yourself too violently in my sleepless nights.

We were too much for a friendship, but so insufficient for a loving relationship.

That’s where I’ve lost ground I think. Hypnotized by your smile, drugged by your presence, blinded by my need of being loved.

So, I guess that our “something” isn’t represented by these two definitions. I guess that our “us” is doomed to be stuck in something untitled, caught between the “too much of a friendship” and “so less of a relationship.”

Especially when you overly narrow the field of a relationship when you violently push me back in my so tiny position of friend, when you talk about an umpteenth girl that happens to be the new fling you’ve said no word about.

Especially when you push back the boundaries of a friendship when you tease and flirt, when you come to get me, spreading here and there filthy seeds of ambiguity of a “more” that could eventually happen.

So, now, maybe… Maybe that our “something” can apply to a definition: the weird definition of friendship that you seem to have, that you seem to carve especially for me. More than a candid friend, less than a fierce love, I guess that I am your “almost”.

In all these blurry lines, you’ve made of me your “almost”, your “too much” and “not enough”. And this is driving me insane! Sharpening my patience, messing with my emotions and honesty, exacerbating my jealousy and insecurities, imprisoning me in a growing unrequited love that ironically builds me up and tears me down…

Usually, I don’t like to be put in boxes, a nice square one, like everybody, when I’d like to be a round one or a weirdly shaped one. I usually don’t like boundaries and limits. But here, here, with you, with this “something”, the edges are too blurry.

So I ask you: what are we?