You.

I am afraid of you.

Of all the things that I've done, I hadn't counted on you disarming me so easily. Almost so completely. Quite thoroughly so.

Like Mitsuha and Taki, we were on a time slip. Separated by distance and time. Never meeting properly. Reaching out to each other, across a few hundred kilometers and years, through that magical plot device that is the mobile phone. Always at its mercy, fighting against dead batteries or broken screens. I was fearful of losing contact information because it was literally the only way I could find you again.

The years have aged me considerably, although thankfully many have said I don't look it, but they certainly have taken their toll on me. I am afraid of getting hurt, so I put up walls to protect me. To prevent the same mistakes or similar errors.

I was afraid that I had met you at the wrong time.

We may not be separated by a rift in time, but I can't deny the aptness of the analogy. I became extra cautious.  It goes without saying that you have so much of your life ahead of you. I don't want to get in the way of that. I wanted someone to be my equal. So I said, maybe in 50 years or so.

"I'm afraid I won't have time for you in fifty years. I'm a busy guy."

However, I hadn't counted on you to be so witty. You caught me off-guard with your candor. And your own way with words, that you so often say you're not good at.  You fought back when you disagreed with me. Put in my place.

You became someone that I respected. Someone who could keep up with my way with words. I know me. That's not easy.

It was your general honesty and insights that kept me taking stolen glances at my phone at odd hours of the night. While I cannot claim to know or understand wholly who you are as a person, I wanted to know more. Somewhere between fictional crushes and the silence of mountains at night and other fragments of your mind, I caught a glimpse of the flame that is your soul.

Sometimes that flame would almost seem extinguished. Perhaps due to the hours you put into your work. Or some other problem you might have. I wanted to fan the embers back to life and protect that flame that danced within when you were happy. I felt the need to guard it from all the scoundrels of the world that could potentially snuff it out. Men with nice words, who know how the world works and will use it to get to you. Yes, I wanted to protect you from them, and perhaps even from me.

I had to look deep into my own soul and ask myself "Why?" Being raised Catholic, it is in my nature to examine my own conscience and question my own motivations. What would that mean for me, and more importantly, what would that mean for you. Was I just using you because I was, or am, feeling lonely? What could I possibly offer you that would benefit you? Eventually, I settled on this. That if I could give you something that would make you a better man, then I could open myself up to this possibility.

I decided I would ask you out on a date.

And then I saw you. Rather the photos you shared of yourself. Irrationally, we hadn't gone through those usual rituals of these dating apps. Perhaps it was for the best. I wouldn't have dared reached out to you had I known.

I hadn't counted on you being indescribably handsome? Gorgeous? I don't know. If I could write poetry, I would. But I can't. That's not part of my bag of tricks.

I blush at even the thought of allowing myself to like someone like you. It just isn't done. Not everyone should ever be so lucky to even attempt to aspire such a thing. Drawing up words from my mental thesaurus yields "not in your league" and "not even in your wildest dreams." Sad cliches that ring even more sadly because they feel so true.

And as I am wont to do, I let my imagination run wild. That even if in the off-chance that something so wonderful should happen, you would always have men and women admiring you that I might be forever cursed to feel so diminished.

Yet I continue to be foolish. And I asked you if I could meet you.

I never told you how many times I typed that out in the days prior, deleting it as I chastised myself. And for some reason, you said yes.

To cheaply borrow another cliche, because sometimes that's the best one can come up with, I took that leap of faith on that train ride that day, hopeful that the stars would align and let us meet. It was as if I were Mitsuha on a mission to find Taki in Tokyo.  As I walked the streets alone, sat in that subway, and rolled around in that strange hotel bed, I remained hopeful as I looked at the phone, waiting for Taki who couldn't possibly know Mitsuha yet. Too soon perhaps. Possibly foolish as well.

As soon as I plopped into my seat, you finally text. You sounded like you had the life snuffed out of you. To be fair, you also took a risk. I had secretly hoped it was for my sake as well. You went out on a limb and got hurt by someone whom you treasured.

I understood completely why, but I couldn't stop my soul from escaping from me as I let out a sigh as the train pulled away from the station. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but despite having the spirit knocked out of me, once I regained my strength and senses, I find myself still resolute.

After all, you had said you wanted to take things slow. You said you weren't even sure if you'd ever want a boyfriend. That was more than fair. I told myself that patience was a good test of the integrity my own intentions.

We both know what followed was not the story I would have liked to have written. One particularly frustrating night, I had intended to be more forthcoming with you. Instead you pushed me away. Towards other men, no less. It felt like someone had rung the gong on me in a game show. I had given the wrong answer. I felt that by being more forthcoming I had suffocated you, needing room to breathe, space to spread your wings.

And there I was, similarly trapped, having painted myself into a corner.

"Well, why would you be responsible? I'm asking you for a date. Not to be my boyfriend."

This was me hurt, trying to dial it down, hoping to give you what you wanted. Instead you said I had ever so slightly annoyed you, and you didn't want to talk about it. I obliged.

You seemed happier that weekend, and didn't seem to want me around. It ended with you begging off, saying you won't be able to text me for a couple of days. That magical plot device, your phone, had given up.

A couple of days went by, and I waited. I couldn't help myself and fired out a message. I knew it was as useless as shouting to the wind, but I missed you.

It did not end up just two days. For all intents and purposes, it felt like you had disappeared on me. I would wake up in the middle of night and mindlessly hoping you had risen back from the dead. By the time the next weekend had passed, I was ready to give up.

Then you came back. With what seemed like some sense of urgency. You had news for me. My heart stopped. No news that is delayed is ever good news. You reassured me it was nothing. A silly little thing that was nothing for me to worry about.

In my head, different scenarios played out. Maybe it was really nothing. But why then would he not tell me? It had to be something that he was afraid that I'd judge him for. Perhaps, no, it couldn't be. He seemed quite happy to be talking to me again. He seemed to have that spark back in him. Whatever it was, it seemed to make him happy.

And you did sound happy. You chided me for not seeing "Kimi no Na wa" and so I did. I even went a step further and brought back this blog to life. It was almost quite frightening to realize how much you have influenced me. But I was only too happy to do so.

As the days went on, your story would change. At the back of my mind, I had already put the pieces together, but I pushed those thoughts aside. But the more you switched gears, I could no longer ignore the signs. How I wish I didn't look so foolish, but that's who I am.

When I asked you for the truth. Your silence rang throughout the night. And all that ran through my mind was that how right I was right to have been afraid of you. It only confirmed how foolish it was for me to even consider myself being even remotely...no, it wasn't entirely foolish. This is who I am.

I'm a wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve kind of guy and that gets me into trouble. Not great. Not bad, but okay.

I take risks for things worth fighting for.

I just hadn't counted on you not giving me a fair chance.

-------------

This is not where I wanted the story to end. In my mind, I had hoped that this isn't the end. Just some second act complication of cosmic proportions to overcome before we reach the finale. But this is as far as my writing goes.

This seems to be a sensible place to stop. I had intended this to end a couple of paragraphs ago, but somehow I can't stop writing. I suppose what else do I have to lose? I've already lost. And nothing emboldens are person quite so.

I've read, written and been written in my fair share of love stories in my life. Have loved. Been loved. Have been hurt. Have hurt.  

I mean really, why should this be any different?

Because you're you.