6 months ago, 3 a.m., crying my eyes out, phone in my hand, telling him that I can get better, I can communicate, I can stop shutting him out from every corner of my world. not begging him to stay, but not letting him go, either.
I don’t know how many times this happened. Must have been a few, sometime in the winter. Against his better judgement, he never left – the longest we went without speaking was 24 hours.
Then… falling in love. A couple of happy months. I was still up and down, but he could always talk me through it.
The downs began to stick though, as I realised what it was I needed…and it wasn’t him
Now, 6 months later, 3 a.m., he’s crying. Phone to his ear, asking me not to leave, telling me he’ll fix it all. Saying no matter how much I hurt him, he doesn’t regret a moment of our journey.
But the thing is… I do. I regret November 14th… December 7th… March 14th… March 16th… and all the days in between.
But most of all, I regret that quiet
What we had was dangling by such a thin thread, and I could have snapped it with a word. I could have set him free, saved him every moment of this hurt before we even knew it was love. But my selfish, indecisive, lonely self reeled it back in, set in motion the chain of events that landed us both here, heartbroken and at odds with our emotions. And I don’t know how to fix it, because now he won’t let me go.
You might say it’s not all my fault, but unless you were there, you can’t realise how much of it is. He’s not perfect, but he’s wonderful, and he doesn’t deserve any of the shit that’s happened since that winter night.
just….don’t ask him to stay if you don’t know if that’s what you want