Case of you

You will know when it's time.
You will look at his face and won't be able to bare the half-lies and the poorly kept secret that you've been carrying around with you for what seems like too much time. It was time. You know it in the everyday-not-normal-life coincidences. Though you will never know if it is the right time, if there was ever to exist a right time. Yet, it is time and you will say it, in a way that will have nothing to do with what you imagined, with the million possibilities you have, at some point, pictured in your head.
You will say that falling in and out of love has been a constant thing when the true constant thing is just wanting to reach out and hold him and not let go, when what you ever do is turn away. Falling in love is just a start and not nearly everything. You will write it down in a poorly handwritten note, with poorly scraped words that were just put to paper as well as you stumbled through all your feelings. How do you say "I love you but that is just not nearly close to the complexity of this, love is a small piece of how much I care and how much you mean to me"?
You don't. You will never be able to face him and say those words, not when you avoid looking into his eyes, afraid that something will spill out. Something other than the tears you shed every time you go away because it makes you feel you were never really there. Like everything was just something, a moment that you can't distinguish from real or just another part of your dreams.
You will write it down and lay your heart on his hands. Say goodbye and laugh as if it was nothing, run away from the result. You will leave yet another piece of you behind and, even more so, feel like you will never be complete. You will think that you had nothing to lose but feel like the exact opposite.
You won't know what to say then. You won't know, you simple just don't know. So you write to yourself to keep yourself from going the slightest bit more insane.
I know that it may mean nothing. But everything means so much to me. I hold on close to everything everyone has ever given me. I hold on to memories because I can't hold on to the people. I select the good moments to erase the fact that there's no way to be sure I'll make things go my way when I don't even know which way that is. I will remember the moments when I was sure that, in some mysterious way, you understood me better than no one else to forget the fact that “Having never discovered qualities in myself that might attract someone else, I could never believe that anyone felt attracted to me.”
I will have the good things and hope that what was ever good won't be tainted by my feelings.
You will know when it is time to gather the courage to face the fact that words on a paper are sometimes more than just words but means, which lead, always, to some sort of result.

Don't you know that when you fuck it up I'll move in to another country.