How cruel it feels even inside my own head to wish you would just move past it already. Like Iโm the villain for wanting things to feel normal again but then you speak to me the way you do. Careless, hidden behind jokes that never land the way you think they do. You laugh it off and I donโt. Iโve told you I donโt more than once but itโs like my words dissolve before they ever reach you. Every night ends the same. Me laying there with this painful heaviness pressing into my chest wondering when exactly it changed. When you stopped feeling anything for me. If you ever did at all. Or maybe this is your way of handling things if you even realise youโre doing it. Is that what coping looks like? Turning someone who loves you into something small? Something easy to dismiss? I donโt know what I am to you anymore. Iโm supposed to be your lover but you donโt hold me like one. You donโt speak to me like one. Itโs more like Iโve been reduced to something less, like Iโm just there for you to pick at, to mock, to push as if Iโm some joke that never ends and still somehow you expect me to stay. And I do. Because thereโs still this stubborn hope in me that refuses to die, that maybe underneath all of this you feel something. That the moments we shared werenโt nothing, that they meant something real to you too but that hope is starting to fade now. Itโs not as steady as it used to be. Is this is what I deserve? Maybe this is just everything circling back to me. Karma, in its own slow suffocating way. For trying again. For believing I could have something good after everything I messed up before. I give you everything I know how to give. Care, attention, love that bends itself into whatever shape you need and still, nothing shifts. Nothing softens. It always comes back to me doing something wrong or saying the wrong thing or being too much or not enough or just not right. Like Iโm constantly one step behind too slow to catch myself before I ruin things again. This time I didnโt even mean to. Sometimes I tell you I love you and it just gets brushed off. Other times you answer but it feels distant like something forced. Youโre trying to convince yourself more than me and I canโt shake the feeling that youโre forcing it and that loving me is something you endure not something you want. You never wanted me. None of this was real. Iโm stuck here trying to imagine how Iโm supposed to keep moving forward when everything feels like itโs already ended. Iโm standing in something thatโs already gone. What life even is there to go back to?
