You’re probably busy.
Every few minutes, like clockwork, I check my phone.
I need to.

Nope.
You haven’t messaged back yet. It’s already been an hour.
Insane.

You or me?
Probably just me. I had to put my phone on silent so I can gain control of it.
Maybe I’m busy too.

Schrodinger's text.
By the simple fact of me not knowing you've messaged, you're actually waiting on me to respond.
I won’t keep you waiting.

Open. Deflate. Evaluate.
Yeah, that one I sent was fine. But what if this one was too intense?
Too scary.

An hour and ten minutes.
I get it. I don’t really like me either right now. Look at how I must sound over text.
Clingy? Definitely.

It reads:
“Hope you had a good day. What did you get up to?”
Sorry.

It's a bit much.
It prys. Like I need to know what’s going on every moment of your life.
****.

Maybe I can correct.
I didn’t really mean to pry. I only want to talk to you. It’s totally okay if you don’t answer. I’m sorry for being so intrusive, just let me know if you think it was too much, or if that’s too much, it’s okay if you take a little bit to answer. You really don’t need to. I need you to. Because it eats me up inside that you’re not going to like me anymore after I asked such an awful question. I just need to know what you’re thinking. PLEASE! ****! WHAT DID I DO WRONG?
...Gotta delete that.

Rewrite it a couple times.
Delete it all again because I like to think I have some sliver of self-awareness. Somehow.
I wish I knew how I messed up.

Turn off silent mode.
If you don't message, I'll be fine. I could never talk to you again and I would be alright.
Forced apathy. Attempted strength.

And then, it is you.
You’re not mad at me, and your message was very thoughtful. Maybe you were happy to see my message.
This time.

That’s good.
I write a giddy little response. Excited for you to message back soon.
And you do.

But then you don’t.
Every few minutes, like clockwork, I check my phone again.
I need to.