Foto bij 088 - Emma

My therapist tells me she's proud of me for standing up for myself, for finally asking the question that has been floating around my brain for a while.
She asks me if I'm truly alright with us being something untitled, if I don't care about defining our relationship. I tell her, with about eighty percent certainty, that I am alright, and that I don't care. That I enjoy just being with Lucien, and that I trust him as much as I possibly can.
We're not anything official, which means he could go and break my heart at any second, but something tells me he won't. That also terrifies me, though, because I know how easily he could. Just because I believe he won't doesn't mean he's going to fulfill my expectations.
I tell my therapist about my fears and insecurities. About no matter how much I enjoy my time with Lucien, sneaking around makes me feel sad sometimes.
I feel insecure about my feelings, because I'm not sure what I'm feeling anymore. Ever since Callum, it feels like there's a wall in between my brain and my heart.
She ensures me that will fade, that slowly the wall will fall and I'll be able to tell Lucien how I feel with no holding back.
She asks me if I love him. I tell her I'm not sure, because I don't know if I'm allowing myself to go there, but I definitely think I could.
I care about him, and I miss him when he's not around, and I could also imagine him meeting my family, which are good signs, so she says.
We talk more about our relationship. She asks if I'd be willing to give up my position at the firm for him, if I'd want to keep it single for years if that was what it took, and all I can tell her is I don't know.
I wish I did, but I really just don't. The wall is still up and it doesn't feel like it's going anywhere any time soon.

Kenna invites me for New Year's Eve, because one of Tom's friends is apparently throwing a party. It'll be a good time, she promises me, and I won't have to pay for a single thing or clean up.
That sounds pretty good, honestly, but somewhere deep down I'm still hoping I'll get an invitation from Lucien. I know I probably won't, but a girl can dream.
He's probably been invited to a billion parties by now, all thrown by richer, more beautiful and more famous people each time. They all want his presence, his attention. There's no way he'd take me there.
We're not together, anyways, so he couldn't even really introduce me as anything. I can imagine the conversations, him introducing me to his social media friends.
"This is Emma, my colleague." Or, even better, "This is Emmeline, my employee.". "Emma, the girl from work I sleep with on a regular basis."
I shouldn't have asked the question, I really shouldn't have, because now I'll spend time I don't have worrying about whether or not he feels the same way about me as I do about him.
I know he likes me, at least I think I know that for sure, but there's different levels of just liking someone. I know I'm head over heels for him, know my heart races every time I see him, and I'm never happier than when I spend time with him.
He's enjoying himself immensely, he's said, but what does that even mean? I also enjoy the movie Pretty Woman immensely, but that doesn't mean I would like to be in a committed relationship with it any time soon.
I'm just playing these mind games with myself, stressing myself out. Even during dinner, which I cook for myself and is way less appetising than last night's meal, all I can do is wind myself up over all of the thoughts I'm having.
I text Kenna back that I'll probably be there for the party, but I'll let her know the morning of - which is in two days. I have two days to calm down stop being such a bitch about this.
As I'm flicking through the channels on the tv, leaning back in my comfortable couch in my own appartment, I can't help but wish I was with Lucien.
I've been over at his place quite a lot lately, so I miss his company, but he hasn't been here ever since he helped me move in some first furniture.
I doubt whether or not I want to text him for a while. Is that something non-official people do, just text each other to ask to hang out?
"Jesus, Emma, stop being such an insecure cunt," I hear myself say out loud, even though it was supposed to be just a thought. It's good to hear it, though, so I continue talking to myself out loud just to hear the words. "He likes your company, he won't think you're weird for texting."
I'm scrolling through my phone for another few minutes before I finally gather the courage to actually text him, though, because my mind is playing tricks on me and all I can think about for a second is him in bed with someone else.
Those images used to be just blurry, but ever since Callum cheated on me my brain has painted a perfect picture.
            Hey babe, what are you up to? I promise this isn't me booty calling you, but I do miss you a little bit. If you're free, you could come over. I have ice cream & wine.
I already fully hate myself for how shitty that text is as soon as I send it, and I hate myself even more for using the word babe in a text message. He's going to think I'm so clingy and just ignore my text until the morning, when he can pretend he fell asleep without seeing it.
Just to hide how badly I'm cringing at myself, I send another message quickly after.
            That message was totally meant for the other non-defined person I'm texting and not for you, Lucien. You're still welcome to come over though, you'll do. X

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