In a world where I was always too loud, too quiet, too well-behaved, too mouthy, always too much of this and not enough of the other, your love was unconditional.
I think back on all of our little moments, but there was no such warning.
I no longer miss the version of you I fell in love with. I no longer miss the lingering stares and whispered secrets.
The more I pushed, the more you pulled away.
The truth is that reaching out to you is the purest form of self-torture I’ve ever endured.