Today, I’ve been stopping myself from wishing happy birthday to someone who shares his birthday with the current leader of the free world. I have to admit, while I’ve only done it for the last two years in a row it still feels weird to not do it. I’m the kind of person who has to show someone they’re important to me even if it’s not reciprocated. This year I’ve been working on not being so emotionally open and giving with people who want nothing to do with me and have backed up this sentiment with their actions. The rejection from him really hurt but I knew that there was a good chance that the outcome of the situation wouldn’t be in my favor. There’s something to be said about the intimacy of a quiet moment you spend with someone watching them sleep and wishing that it could be a permanent arrangement. You want to pray to that end but know that the prayers will be in vain because that’s just not how life is cut out. There’s the impending dread of the fact that you may never see the person again and the even more difficulty reality that you’ll probably never have this kind of moment with them again. It feels right, you feel like you’re home and that you’re accepted unconditionally but  there’s no longevity. Every second brings you closer to the inevitable separation. You look at his sleeping face and whisper “I wish I could keep you,” but you know that despite everything it’s not meant to be and you both will return to your separate continents of residence. You just want things to be different but they aren’t. Time passes and you accept the fact that you will most likely never see him again. His birthday comes around, and you think of him with fondness but realize that contacting him will only make it worse in your attempt to get over it all. That’s my life folks.

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