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a moment to oneself to reflect

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She can’t say it straight out, so she says it in metaphor.

She’s balancing on a tightrope between acknowledgment and ignorance, and she doesn’t know which side she should choose. What if he doesn’t fell the same way? What if she missed a turning point, a climax in the story of her life, because she was too cowardly to face the ambiguous unknown? She doesn’t know what to do, so she stays precariously balanced on the tightrope – casting longing glances at his frame, but turning at the last moment to talk to another friend.

Sometimes, she wishes she could read minds, so she would know if he was as conflicted as she was – balancing on the same tightrope – but then she sees him laughing raucously with friends, and she knows for certain that he does not feel the same way. She hates her weakness, how she cannot help but observe everything about him, yet cannot bring herself to acknowledge that fact – to herself, and to himself.

Right now, she is a tree rooted to the ground, and she wants nothing more than to be like the flower or leaf, and drift with the wind. She wants to uproot her feelings, relocate them to someplace more worthy – or better yet, eradicate them.

With each exhale of icy winter air, she imagines that she is breathing him out. But with each inhale, she breathes him in again.

And as she walks through the snowy landscape, she finds herself wishing for spring again, so she would not have to breathe in the icy air, and see his departure.

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