.

I hate how you see right through me, like I never learned how to hide. I tell myself I don’t need this, then you look at me once and I’m lying. I try to play it cool, act like I’m fine on my own, but every step away from you feels heavier than staying too close. You’re the risk I said I wouldn’t take again, the feeling I promised myself I’d avoid, and somehow I’m already falling before I notice I let go.

I keep my guard up just enough to breathe, but not enough to stop my heart from racing when you say my name. There’s tension in every pause between us, like one wrong word could break everything—or pull us closer than we’ve ever been. I don’t know if you’re saving me or ruining me, all I know is that silence hurts more when you’re not here.

Maybe I’m scared because this feels real, because you don’t love me quietly, you love me in ways I can’t control. And if this ends, I’ll blame myself for wanting it anyway. But right now, standing in this moment, I’d rather feel too much than nothing at all—because even if you break me, at least it was you.