I’m scared of admitting that if I hadn’t come to see you, your life would have carried on without any more care for me, and my life would still be falling apart.

I’m scared of admitting that if I hadn’t come to see you, you would have been willing to forget us rather than coming to the conclusion that I’m worth it enough for you to try for.

Most of all, I’m scared you’ll never arrive to that conclusion, and that I will continue to cry myself to sleep in the years to come wishing things were different between us.

Wishing I could find someone else, that I was capable of loving anyone other than you, simply for the moment that they call me and I don’t have to go searching for their love.