Just let me love you until I get really tired, until it all runs out, until all hope is gone, until all hurt is gone, until you’re finally gone.
The relationships that scare me these days are the ones that hurt. But the one that will heal me. The ones where I suddenly have something to lose.
The heartache from losing my wife is unequivocal to anything I’ve felt before.
I’m writing to tell you that I am not the enemy, and neither is he. Coming from me, that may mean nothing, but I want you to hear my side of the story.
I will be 28 next week, and I just moved back in with my parents. I am once again back to square one in regards to my relationships and my future, and I have no idea what to do with myself.
Don’t expect yourself to fall in love just so you can take the loneliness away, just so you can forget, just so you can stop being broken.
I never say your name out loud.
I packaged up my feelings for you in a cardboard box.
Goodbye to brewery hopping. Your grandmother. That first moment I finally noticed you when you gently touched the bottom of my foot. Summer at the shore. Ice cream, beach, family weirdness.
Idk, just a thought.
Sometimes I wonder if I was just a hindrance of what you and her could have been, a pit stop along the way, a pause in between, a coffee break before the real thing. Sometimes I wonder whether what we ever had was real for you, may it was, maybe it wasn’t.