How many times I have practiced this speech. To the blank walls, or the thin air, I've counted out my reasons, sometimes putting it this way, other times putting it that. I've stated it bluntly—I have feelings for you, I love you, I'm in love with you—both with and without the phrase "theres something I need to tell you" preceding it. I have had long preambles wherein I reference our previous conversations and then gently pull back the curtain. I have given long flowing stories where I back into the whole matter, in an attempt to lay the groundwork of my mind and heart first.

I do not know exactly why I am bothering. No matter my approach, I anticipate only one outcome, and that is heartbreak and endings. In fact I have practice those too, practiced how best to say good-bye so that it is not unkind and yet so sentimental that I walk away with my heart exploding in my chest. Fat chance: it will anyway.

Some small part of me—such a hopeful, silly part—whispers that I may be unreasonable, that I may be dismissing the possibility of a positive outcome without reason, that I may be creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. But the logical side of me always returns: you are being irrational, you are letting yourself consider possibilities so remote that even thinking of them will only make the hurt worse when it comes.

Yet I keep thinking, if only my feelings were strong enough, genuine enough, maybe that can cut through. It ought to. It should. Why doesn't it? It doesn't.It almost never does.

I described it to a friend as "ripping the band-aid off."

I am prepared. I even have drinks with a friend already scheduled.

Today, on a walk, I realized that in two day's time I would know the answers, and all anticipation would be past. Perhaps that alone will be relief? In some ways yes. Closure, they call it. The torture will at least end, and I will feel like less of a cheat and a liar.''

I will probably make a fool of myself, and botch the thing, but no matter. I don't fear that. Really the only thing I fear is that the response is an instant cut-down, a dismissal without hearing. It is like being on trial in a totalitarian state. I know the verdict is likely fixed, but I want the catharsis of a defense.

It should be so much simpler. It should be a matter of whether what I feel is true, and good, and if what she feels is true and good. Not a matter of practicalities or other people who, frankly, don't matter anymore. Not what other people want or think is right. It should be the pursuit of happiness, not the pursuit of giving other people happiness.

But what should is rarely what is and I am far too old to rail against the injustices of the world.