I want to talk to you again. I want to flirt with you again. I want you in my life again. But if I send the first text, you’re instantly going to know that I’ve been struggling without you.
I hate playing games, pretending that my feelings don’t exist. But I refuse to send the first text, because I refuse to admit that I’m the one who cares more.
If I let myself break and contact you, you’re going to realize how much you mean to me. Even if I say something seemingly innocent, if I casually wish you a happy birthday or ask you how you’re spending your Easter, you’re going to know that I don’t really care about your answer. That all I care about is talking to you again.
No matter what words I put inside of a text, the translation will always be the same: I miss you. Do you miss me?
If I send the first text, I’m going to be putting myself in a shitty situation. I’m going to be letting my cards show, revealing my soul. And I’m going to drive myself insane in the process.
If you take too long to text back, I’m going to spend every second feeling self-conscious, wondering if I made a mistake and calling myself stupid for thinking you’d ever want me.
And if you don’t answer at all, I’m going to regret texting you, resent the heart beating inside my chest, because I obviously don’t mean anything to you and probably never did in the first place.
If I text you, I’m only going to put unnecessary pressure on myself. I’m going to force myself to overanalyze, overthink.
If I text first, I won’t have any idea if you actually want to talk to me or if you’re only responding to be polite. I won’t get any of the answers that I need.
The thing is, I don’t want to talk to you, just to talk to you. I want to know that you care. I want proof that we’re on the same page.
I want you to reach out to me, show me that you’re willing to put in effort to keep me in your life.
I’m not the type of girl that typically waits an hour to text back to look cool or that hesitates to make the first move — but this time is different, because you’re different, our situation is different. We have history.
I have something to lose by texting you — my self-respect, my dignity, my sanity — which is why I can’t let myself do it.
I can’t let myself text you, even though I sometimes tell myself that it would be harmless. That it’s just a conversation. That I should stop thinking so much and start acting. That life is too short to hold back.
But then I remember how much you’ve hurt me. And I remember that you could still hurt me some more.
I don’t want to put myself into a situation that I could avoid. I don’t want to thrust myself toward heartbreak.
So I’m going to put down my phone, force my thoughts in another direction. I’m never going to let myself text you.
But I still wish you would text me.