cherrybloss0m93
Your love felt like standing in a doorway that never fully opened, but never fully closed either. You pulled me close enough to feel your heartbeat, close enough to believe I mattered, but never close enough to truly claim me. I gave you all of me while you held yourself back, always ready to leave, always prepared with an exit.
Do you know what that does to someone? To feel treasured in private but never chosen out loud? To be held like something precious but treated like something temporary? It slowly unravels you. It makes you question your worth in the loud moment because you only existed in the quiet ones.
I kept waiting for the day you'd look at me with certainty instead of hesitation. I told myself you just needed time, that love like this was complicated, that if I stayed patient enough you would finally decide I was enough. I stretched myself thin trying to fit into a space you refused to define.
And the cruelest part? It never shattered in one clean break. There was no dramatic ending, no final goodbye to grieve. Just this endless in-between. No real beginning to cherish, no closure to hold onto. Just ghost versions of us, the way we laughed, the way it almost felt real, the future we danced around but never stepped into.
It hurts deeper than a real heartbreak because at least heartbreak has an ending. This was just a slow ache. A story without a title. A love that only lived in almosts and maybes.