It’s been hours since I last sent those letters. It’s been days since I felt my heart swell with the usual joy you make me feel. It’s only been minutes since the last tear dropped and yet my eyes are blurring with the pooling liquid again.
I said I’m tired. I am, truly. I asked for a favor, I asked for a time off. I asked for a time off from all the pain, the doubts, the wall that started growing between us, thickening and separating us farther than the literal distance between us. But you took it as a time off from us. I was too tired to explain what I meant so instead, I just agreed.
Now I do not know where to go from here. I have given everything to the man I love so deeply—my time, my love, and my efforts—thinking that he’d do the same. But instead I am left questioning my decisions and the authenticity of his love. I have given him every opportunity to let me know how much I matter to the man who means the world to me, but he just didn’t act on any of it. Still, as I sit here desperate for a cathartic release, I am once again tempted to reach out first. For if I won’t, I fear we’ll never talk again. Because as much as it hurts to admit, I sense that the answer to the question above, is “not really“.