I need to distance myself from you. I need to walk away, the way I’ve done so many times before. And though walking away from you pricks my soul and is a stab to my heart, I need to do it. I would rather bleed out than bleed within. I need to do this much for myself. I owe it to me. I can’t fall in love with you all over again, knowing that yet again, you won’t fall back in love with me.

But I can’t help it. How can I?

Every time that I see you my life seems a little clear. Every time I touch you, it feels like home; every time you come near, I feel belonged; every time I hear your voice my spirit dances to the music in it. My heart swells; my lungs forget to breathe; my body resurrects; everything fades into oblivion. You are all I see, you own me; you have a claim like nobody ever had. You are all I want, you- in your imperfection, insecurities, and weakness.  I can’t let go of you without tearing myself apart. I can’t lose you without losing me too. And so before I let you in again, I need to stay away to keep you out. I need to leave, leave before I crawl back to our homeless love hoping to find a refuge there.

But know that it is not as easy as I make it look. Walking away from you is one of the hardest things I have ever done, but being with you is one of the most hurtful experience.Though loving you was one of the simplest and natural things to do.

I miss the liberty to call you whenever I feel like it, the confidence of just pouring myself out in front of you. I miss wearing my heart on my sleeves whenever I was with you. I miss being fearless. I miss our deep talks that came out just as normally as breathing. I miss our late night talks and love making. I even miss fighting with you in the night knowing you’ll still be there and still be mine in the morning. I miss the liberty to touch you, to hold your hand whenever I feel like it, to kiss you anywhere and any place, to love you in whichever way I want to. I miss sharing my life with you. I miss showing you off. I miss the way your hair felt against my palm. I miss those awkward hugs and stolen stares. I miss the way my name sounded on your lips. I miss the way we dreamt about things together. I miss the way you smelled, the way you looked at me from across the room, the way you sang. I miss your morning face. I miss all of you and all of me.

I have been sitting here with phone in my hand from so long, contemplating if I have the right to text you; if you are even interested in knowing what’s happening; if you even care, if you will even spare me two minutes of undivided attention. Deep down I know the answer, I know it and yet I can’t bring myself to accept it. It hurts so much that I finally let go of it. Instead, I sit there waiting for you to text me, that way I’ll know that you want to talk with me, that you are interested, that I have your attention, that you still remember me. But you don’t. I keep waiting till my resolution, pride, and self-respect come melting down and I text you instead. A part of me starts to hate me so much for doing this to myself that I can’t help but order my own vengeance.

It’s so hard to not reach out to you whenever you are near me, to not sneak up to your side, to not start a conversation with you, to just ignore you like you never once meant the world to me. You meant the world to me, I would have given it all up had you asked me to do that, but you didn’t. I would have given you all my love had you taken that, but you didn’t. I would have stood by you and fought for you had you indicated that you want me to, but you didn’t. I would have left them had you asked me to come along, but you didn’t. You simply moved on with your life replacing me like one does an old sweater from last winter. You found someone else to warm you while I shivered and shuddered in the snow. You treated me like an addition to your life not like I was a part of it. And it hurts just as much.

They tell me to leave you, to let you go, to cut you off. But I can’t. If only they knew that you would never chase me if I leave, you won’t hold on if I let go, you won’t even feel me slip if I cut you off. I’m scared that you wouldn’t fight if I turn it into a battle; that you wouldn’t try if I make it hard; that you wouldn’t love if I don’t keep it easy. I’m scared that you might actually let me go, let me leave, let me end it, let me die.