The Lie I'd Never Tell

It's so much easier writing to people. Because even when I'm not directly writing to them, I'm still often writing about them, or for them, even if I know that they will never see what I wrote. Most of what I write is that way, it's for people. The writing is always directed to someone...and sometimes it's more than one person, while other times I may not know exactly who it's for. My thoughts aren't abstractions, they don't just float indiscriminately above the world...they're tied down here, too, and they're held in place by people, the very same people that this ends up being written for. I'm not exactly certain how this post will turn out, but I guess I'll just start writing it and see.

If you'd looked into my eyes and asked me that question, I might have actually told you the truth. I wouldn't have given a vague response or really dodged what you asked. I might have stared solidly back and out and said how I felt at the time. But you know, the fact of the matter is that you never did.

I can't really blame you, because you were halfway across the country by then, and I still haven't had the chance to see you since. But all of the times you'd asked me before, you'd never looked me in the eyes, you let me get away with "I figured as much," and "I guess" as replies. You knew I wasn't telling the truth, but you didn't inquire after it, either.

Or maybe it was because I was looking away that you didn't ask again. But I looked back. I always looked back at your eyes after answering those questions. Selfish as it may be to say now, you should have known. You probably did. The problem is that you never did anything about it.

And maybe that's for the best. Maybe it's really better now that you didn't find out the truth then when you had the chance. Because I don't think I'm ever going to tell you now. Even if you do ask me that same question again, I don't have the courage I did then to look you in the eyes and tell you.

You broke my heart.
I forgave you.
I didn't hold it against you.
I stayed friends with you.
I was there for you.

Every single time you needed me, I was there for you. No matter how much time passed, no matter how many things came between us, I always replied, I was always there for you when you asked. And somehow in all of that, I got used to unrequited love, I got used to you just using me in exactly the same way that people always had before.

So now you expect me to be strong, to have some semblance of self-worth, to be capable. Yet even after all of the hell that I went through for you, because of you, with or without you, you don't seem to understand just how much it all hurt. And next time when you ask that question, will you think to look into my eyes? Or will you let me lie to you again?

The thing is, you'll never expect me to ever have anything of this sort to say to you, because I was always respectful of you, and helpful to you, and would never tell you off like this. Which is why I never did. And why I never will. Because there's the one lie that I will never tell you, one truth that I will never hide from you:

I care about you. I always have and I always will.