Analyze this
Written by darkangel1978
"Why didn’t you call me?"
This question keeps spinning in my head, over and over again. I can’t get rid of it because you haven’t called like you said you would.
I stare at the phone, silently willing it to ring already. Nothing. Am I going nuts? Maybe ... no, ... definitely.
You know, I always use the pronoun you whenever I think of you. I can’t think of you as I do of others, referring to them by using he, she or they. You are special, because you are you. You mean so much to me and that is why I can’t stop thinking. I’m not able to stop analyzing what it all means or could mean.
You are not here but nonetheless I’m talking to you. Silently and only in my head, of course. Can you hear me? I need to know why you didn’t call me. There’s no answer unless I try to figure it out by myself.
What could it mean?
Maybe your phone broke down. Maybe you forgot my number ... which wouldn’t be good, because, if you feel the same about me like I do about you, you won’t ever forget my number.
How do you feel about me?
This is a dangerous question. I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear the answer to it. What if ..., no ... I don’t even want to think about it. Again I can’t stop it.
Maybe something came up and that’s why you can’t call me. What could have come up?
Perhaps you are held up by something or ... someone. I involuntary shudder at the thought of that. Are you more interested in somebody else? Somebody who isn’t me? Have you ever been interested in my like I am in you? Do you ever think about the things I think about?
You didn’t call me. I guess that means I’m not so important to you, or for you? Or am I wrong about that? There are so many possible explanations but somehow I can only think of the worst ones, the ones which mean that the feelings I have are unrequited. And it hurts.
I think I’ve fallen for you. Does love make you feel afraid and unsure? I always thought love would make everything clear and wonderful. I thought it would make you feel strong and invincible, the fact that somebody loves you.
Oh, that’s what was wrong with the question. I don’t know if you like me, or even love me. That’s what scares me. You might not love me. I’ve just realized ... that I could have been wrong. Maybe I talked too much into all the little things, the time we spend together, the small touches.
Maybe I manipulate things in my mind when I analyze them, like... I only think about what I want them to mean, when in reality they mean nothing or just the opposite.
Maybe you know how I feel and don’t want to give me anymore reason to believe you’d feel the same, because you don’t and you don’t want to hurt me.
And by thinking this I fall even more for you. I’m pathetic.
On the other hand you could be afraid, too. You didn’t call because you don’t know what I feel for you and you are afraid that I don’t love you.
What do we do then? What if we both are too afraid? What if we miss our shot at something so unbelievably great and amazing, because of one phone call?
I’m going in circles. We need to talk about it, about us and about what it all means. But you didn’t call me. I could call you, but... I... I just can’t. I’m too afraid.
This could mean everything or nothing and I’m weak. I can only stare at the phone. Do you ever wish you could turn off your brain? Stop it from being at a deadlock? I do because things would be easier, or wouldn’t they?
Do animals think as much as we do about those complicated interpersonal .... or in their case, interanimal relations? I don’t think so. I guess it’s easy to be an animal then. But they say that elephants never forget anything. What kind of animal would you be if you were one? What would I be? Would we still match? Do we match as humans?
I can’t stop thinking about you.
The phone rings. It really rings.
Tentatively I reach for it. Again I’m afraid. I hope that it’s you calling me, but what if it isn’t you?
When I hear your voice I can literally feel a goofy smile spread over my face, no ... all over myself. You do that to me because you called.
I’m happy.
But then it starts all over again. It starts with almost the same words. There’s just a tiny difference, but it’s enough to make me think again. Now there are so much more and other possibilities, a whole new set of meanings. Again I can’t stop analyzing them.
"Why did you call me?"
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