Excerpts I'll Never Tell

Flowers?

So, I struggle now because it feels like my little book, is no longer my little book. I can't write whatever I want without the fear of someone seeing it, but seeing as you no longer read it - here we are.

So, I'll write you directly this time even if you don't see it. I --- you, I -- that. However, you couldn't wait. You were quick to go. If you wanted me you would have been here, but you're not. Maybe it's a form of self care to yourself, and you have better resilience. I'm not mad, it hurts though.

Who knows?

However, I see it as you simply didn't feel as I did. It quickly passed for you. It wasn't a settling gut feeling, that occasionally twisted in your chest. It was a moment, and it passed. My fear was never of how you would treat me, but how you actually felt about me. It was always that, that scared me.

They say to find a man that loves you more than you love him. I didn't ever feel as though you loved me more, but I did hope you did. It was a moment, and it passed for you. But for me? It's a constant hour, infinite time. It's around. It simmers. It chokes and sometimes it hurts. I wish you would have found a way to prove you loved me more, to prove me wrong. But again - to you it passed.

So now, at least I can reflect on this, my decisions are what lead me here. I'm okay with that, sometimes. I think about the life I dreamed up for us, the one you helped to build in my mind even if you didn't know it. But, here we are. I'll settle in, and reflect on this. I'll clear everything out, and just sit and reflect. Time passed, the moment went for you, but I'm still watching the very slow moving clock.

Again, when you want something, you stop at nothing, but you stopped. It was a moment.

March. Until the end of March.

In time this will become my book again. About me.