Questions

It gnawed at me.  Every day.  Every thought I had was tinged with this underlying sensation of angst.  Every conversation I had was undermined by this unrelenting thorn that seemed lodged in my mind.  I tried not to think about it because I had no answers that made sense.  I tried not to talk about it because my friends were tired of hearing my theories and ideas that were both wishful and lame.  Never before had I been so consumed by another person’s motives.

It was ridiculous that he had this affect on me.  Nothing that he did mattered to my life in any way and yet somehow, for some inexplicable reason, his motives enthralled me.  Why did he say this?  Why did he do that?  What does this mean?  What does that prove?

The odds of the answers being what I want or having any impact on what I do are nil.  At best.  And yet, it’s still there – the need to know.  This exasperating game in my mind, trying to unravel the yarn of his thoughts across space and time.  I keep reaching out to him on a different level to find the answers that my soul craves.  Does he hear me?  Can he feel me?  I think so. 

Then new questions begin.  Is he ignoring me, blocking me, oblivious to me, or worse?  Or is he just not ready for me?  I think he’s beginning to awaken to the possibilities, but he’s not ready to accept the full impact of our rapport.  I’m ahead of him in that way.  Though maybe he is right to wait for the true impact on us to be revealed.  There is no way to know where this road leads.

So the questions continue to bewilder me.  I am consumed.  Until the answers are revealed, I can not stifle the constant swirling of ambiguous prospects.