I’m here, I’ve always been. I see your beauty, I feel your pain, I know your name. The waiting game that was once sweet is turning bitter. I’ve been waiting at a door that was never intended to open for me, yet I return every day hoping to feel your warmth and to meet your gaze. I know this is one-sided, your impersonal silence speaks loud enough for me to hear. I grapple with the idea of wanting your acceptance in the first place. Why care about someone who would have no reaction to the mention of your name?