Drink The Wild Air | Unrequited
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Enrichment Lesson
“Nothing kills the taste of peanut butter quite like unrequited love,” Charlie Brown.

For too long now I have lusted and desired after someone who is emotionally available to me. “Why can’t you see me as I truly am?” My heart cries, unwilling, or unable to accept that I am simply, not, what he wants.

I am like a puppy dog lolling after him with my tongue hanging out; loyalty ensured with an occasional absent-minded pat, oblivious to the other possibilities that surround me.

My day is so much brighter when we talk; my lips curve upwards at the sound of his voice. He is charming, sexy, articulate and oh so funny; when I am in the doldrums he entices me to laughter, sometimes so raucously, my bones creak. His kisses are like strawberries; luscious and delectable. As a lover he is unselfish, tender and skilful.

He is not perfect, he, like all of us, has his foibles and insecurities, but it is his vulnerability that endears him to me.

Despite the vagaries of life he has constructed a passionate existence. One where he has followed his dreams and, with determination and hard-work, achieved great success without a hint of arrogance.

He has been a good friend, a great friend even; kind, supportive and incredibly patient. But I have not been honest, I have pretended that this is enough for me, in the unrealistic hope that despite his avowals, time would change his mind.

I have tortured myself and my close friends endlessly with the reason why he does not want me. “Am I not pretty enough? Smart enough? Thin enough?” As if this was something within my control, that I could fix, if I just tried harder.
At least I've still got the peanut butter

As my good friend P reminds me when I start on my litany of despair, “You know forbidden fruit is the sweetest. Doesn’t this seem familiar? Haven’t we been here before?”

But despite this sound advice, the little girl inside me still clings to this unrequited desire, desperate to achieve the parental approval that proved so elusive in childhood. “I would give you my heart,” she cries. “Why is that not enough for you?”

The reason why doesn’t matter….

I had hoped with time my feelings would fade into the gentle and constant ebb of platonic friendship but they have grown tangled and ensnared, leaving no room for anything else to flourish. My only option now is to rip them out by the roots and leave the soil fallow for a season to come.

I cannot be his friend not now, not yet.

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