I want to write you a love letter; I want to soak the paper in yearning until it smells of new beginnings—until it smells of you and me. I want to write you a love letter that you’re not ready for; a letter that you will never be ready for. The weight of everything left unsaid threatens to drown me, but I refuse to swim to shore because I do not know how to let go of the punctured life preserve you’ve thrown me.

I know that it will not save me and is only prolonging the inevitable. I am stuck in limbo and it’s my fault. You only ever spoke in hypotheticals; calculated and carefully pieced together sentiments that were just enough to keep my head above water. Can I call it drowning if the ocean was never called an ocean?

Can I call it an ending if there was never a beginning? What do you say about the dying flower that was intentionally underwatered, never given the chance to bloom because you were too scared of what could be? What do you say to the love that was less than love but more than not love? Is it worth saying anything at all? Would you even listen?

valentine’s day and “situationships” by (DS)

Last text I sent…

“You are so inconsiderate of my feelings. And you are a liar. You never deserved to be in my life. Ever.”

…how would you respond?

9 times outta 10, “emotionally unavailable” means “emotionally unavailable (to you)”