1-8-25   8:05pm

every time you don't respond
i convince myself you're done

my mind
my worst enemy

do you still want this with me?
i might ask

have you met someone else?
is she wonderful?
what does she smell like?
does her laugh sound like the most wonderous
orchestra known to man


the feeling of love
and wanting to be loved
is so volatile
my own personal current
pushing out to sea

He might be right,
When he says that loves gone now.
That it cannot be done right,
For doing it wrong now.
I hope that he’s wrong when
He speaks on my deep fear,
Says I’m used up and damaged
And will not be loved here.
I feel it inside now,
That sinking dread feeling
That sits in my stomach
And leaves my mind reeling.
I know it deep down now,
The soul crushing truth love,
That people don’t love like
They used to love love, love.

Spot red flags,
and tick the boxes.
Do the math,
then chase the foxes.

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.