Forbidden

From the day we met, until very recently I thought you were my bashert. Maybe that was naïve of me.

At that time, I didn’t want to touch you because of some raw trauma, so being shomer was easy. It felt so electric. A summer spent away only intensified my feelings.

Then things got really confusing. Miscommunications and hurt feelings. I did the only thing I knew how to do and ignored you. And you kept coming back. Again and again.

We were always in the same places and by now know dozens of people in common. No escape regardless.

I can’t place my finger on it, but it feels different. The intrusive feelings are gone, and we’ve grown cool towards each other. I’ve read about limerence, how projection and a fear of honesty and rejection keeps people in a tantalizingly dissatisfying, yet addictive limbo. It’s supposed to end within two years.

Maybe it’s because I’m no longer forbidden to you? After I told you things were so awkward. I felt so guilty. You never told me how it made you feel, but were supportive once I communicated what was and wasn’t helpful to say. You were so kind about the other things, too.

You even did something inadvisable to try and help me. It didn’t work, but it didn’t hurt. When you told me what you had done, it made me scared. You weren’t particularly forthright and it made me very worried. I told you I was angry. And then I told you it scared me.

After I became unforbidden, you told me I would feel different. About everything. That suddenly there would be no point. Maybe you spoke that into fruition.

I don’t know what is or will be between us, but regardless I have so much love for you. I only want the best for you. And I’m so proud of all you’ve done in the time we’ve known each other. And I miss you.

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