I don't know.
And it's not a simple not knowing; it's not the 'I don't know' of what do you want for breakfast that only sets you back maybe three minutes and leaves you a little hungry at most; it's more the 'I don't know' of do you love me back that tends to set you back a lifetime and leave you horribly vacant at the very least.
I shut down under pressure, I forget, I go elsewhere with elsepeople and busy myself with other things -- things that don't concern not knowing. Because I
Don't
Know
with you, because I can never really tell and though sometimes I swear I wish I could, other times I am perfectly happy not knowing so I can never decide. Because I don't want you but I want you now. Because it's cold and I should be drowning in your jacket riding shotgun into a night sky we've never seen; because you are so far away, because you live there -- count the nerve impulses from you to me.
It is a pause in the never ending motion, a click-shock-fall of a wave as it's rising. I don't know where we are, where I am, where we're going, where we aren't. What if we never come back. I want to know that there is returning from this. The wave falls back into the ocean when the rising stops. It crashes but it is back, nonetheless.
I don't know what I want and I may never know; is that okay; will you wait for a reply (what if i am less than what you believed me to be). The crumple of your fingers on my fingers is the only truth I can subscribe to, we can pretend it's nothing. I am terrified of what could be and what cannot. There's a blanket I can hide under but what if that isn't enough.
Don't ask.
(i) (can't) (answer).
Don't ask.
(i) (don't) (know).
