I’ve been broken, backstabbed, butchered, but I still have an unreasonable amount of trust in people. I still get my hopes up when I fall for someone new. And when that person doesn’t fulfill my expectations, the disappointment destroys me.

I hate that unexpected sinking feeling. When I’m perfectly happy and then I see the smallest thing, a text or a photograph or a smile aimed at another girl, and it ruins my entire day. It makes me feel like my insides are crumbling, creating a rockslide that leads to a lump in the center of my stomach. An inescapable pain that won’t go away. 

And then that’s all I can think about. I forget about how flirty we’ve been. About how our friendship has slowly been blossoming into something more beautiful. All I can think about is the one minuscule thing that gives me reason to doubt we’re ever going to become a couple.

It’s like jumping from a freezing cold pool into a hot tub, from one extreme to another. The change is too sudden. Too jarring. Too much for my body to take. 

I want to thank you for the bittersweet compliments and for all of our late night conversations. But I don’t want them anymore. I don’t want the high your smile gives me if it means that one day, I’m going to crash. Because I can’t handle the aftermath. 

If you don’t want me, it’s okay. That, I can handle. That, I can understand.

But I can’t take the suspense, the idea that your text is either going to make my day or ruin it entirely. And I don’t need to waste my minutes trying to interpret every word that drops from your lips or gets sent through your phone.

I’m tired of getting my hopes up. And I’m sick of that sinking feeling. 

So if you want me, don’t give me a reason to assume otherwise. Show me that I’m the only girl that you’re interested in so my paranoia doesn’t push us apart. Let me inside of your world so I can see I belong there.

And if you don’t want me, don’t be afraid to snap my heart in two. I’d rather hear that I’m not what you want today than have you play nice and lead me on for another week or month or year. I’d rather know where I stand than feel like I’ve lost my footing.

Please, whatever you do, don’t lead me on. Don’t give me the time and the materials I need to construct our imaginary future when you know you’re only temporary.

Please, just give me the truth.