Why they call it falling...

I was reading back through old posts today, and some of them made me laugh, some I was like, WTF was I thinking, and WHO am I talking about, and others made me think and realize things. In my June 26th post I talked about a guy I met who genuinely seemed to like me, but I didn't really reciprocate the feelings. I was worried about him falling and me not catching him. Well, how time changes things. Here it is, September 11, and I'M the idiot who's fallen, and HE'S the one not catching me. Pain doesn't hurt when it's all you've ever known. I don't know what he's doing, I don't know where he's at, and I don't know what happened, and it's the not knowing that's killing me. I guess if it's meant to be, he'll find his way back to me. If not, then I'm outta here. There's nothing else keeping me here. Simple as that. I'm going home. But can I ask you to pray for me? That this one comes back and that everything's ok? I'm completely crazy about this guy. And until 3 days ago, I was sure he felt the same. Now I'm not sure about anything anymore. Except that I miss home. But I miss him even more.