I write this to you now because the weight of my words always seemed to hold me down. Trust I am perfectly content knowing time is on my side. But nonetheless, be well bear.
I don't feel so far away from you lately, love me on the sly.
I want to make this very loud and clear: with you, it wasn't that I feared being alone. It was I feared losing you. The past year of my life has been consumed in a relationship that heeded nothing but the gray in life. For me, black and white has always been relevant. And while I now understand the meaning of maturity and the necessity to see the gray, after all things considered, my emotions still enjoy swaying to one end of the spectrum and back. I don't see anything wrong with that and I lack the ability to apologize on account of my actions. You see, I am not a robot. I am allowed to be swept off my feet, to feel a strong compatibility with another human being, to allow myself to sink deep into my vulnerability, and to allow them to pull me closer with an undeniable feeling of safety. I repeat: I am a human being. But at some point in the year I allowed myself to be so completely consumed with you. An error I fully engage; I lost track of who I was and who I wanted to be. (This is precisely why I am anti-relationship.) When I awoke from a trip to reality I felt completely numb towards you. You didn't shake me, you didn't move me like I knew you to. And I tried to ignore it and push the bad out of my head. Maybe it wasn't bad. Maybe I realized that something in my life was taking precedence over you: me. It can't be held against me though. The past 365 days have been a whirlwind of believing my heart, while everyone in my head told me you weren't into me. Who was I to believe? The person that didn't know you, or the person who knew you best but with jaded vision? My body and heart are strained... at some point, I gave up on you. I'm sorry I did, honestly... maybe, maybe one day.