this is experimental, so, whatever happens, don't freak out

so
there's still that view

me:  everything i know about you leads me to believe that you want me to be happy.

you:  well, yeah.

me:  and, i mean, you know how much i want to understand, but you never, when you have the opportunity, do anything to make it make any more sense.

at first, i thought that was because you weren't sure.  then i thought it was because you wanted to purposely keep me in the dark.  like, it's a proof that she loves me.  like the uncertainty got you off.  not as a mean-ness thing, but like, a kink.  Well, or that on a sliding scale to fairytale where the prince couldn't talk.

but that all changed a couple years ago.  no more flirting around with uncertainty.  you knew what you wanted, didn't you?

you:  i'm not sure what you mean.

me:  no, i'm not either, exactly.  i'm still figuring it out.  something had to change.

no more tubs of ice.

and this is where the uncertainty became painful, for me.  why would you risk losing me when you clearly didn't need to?

i don't believe you're tongue tied around me, but i do believe you can't trust me not to show my hand.  i mean, you can now i think, but even i am not certain.  plus, there's paranoia and whatnot to factor in.  i get it.  i never blame you for that.  just like i never blame you if you're just letting me believe a bunch of stuff that isn't real--  if it's even fair to say that you're letting me.

i mean, if i am the perfect audience, you gotta let me be invested in the show, right, figuratively speaking.  if i know i'm the muse then it becomes my performance.  to get what you need, you'd have to do that.

you:  and maybe that's what you need too.

me:  yeah, i've thought about that.  but it feels like this game isn't working any more, regardless.  i need to know more.  i can't suspend the disbelief the way i could.  and so i thought i really needed to know what was going on.

i'm not saying quit playing with you.

i think, i'm trying, to write you some dialog.