I still care
I care so much it hurts.
I care so much that it rips me up inside because I know that you're not okay. Not sleeping. Not feeling. Not smiling anymore.
I care. And that's why it burns when there are no texts. Why my heart sinks when you feed me empty responses and half-truths.
I feel like a ship untethered in the heart of a storm. My sails stretch and tear. My mast bends and breaks. The ropes and knots unwind and come undone, whipping about, wrapping around my wrists, my ankles, my throat.
I care.
I still care.
I care enough to drown. I care enough to stand in your place in the heart of the fire. I care enough to scorch my hands if only it'd mean that I could hold you and tell you that you'll be alright.
I care too much. Even when you push me further and further away. Because the harder you push, the harder I push to stay.
I refuse to give up on you.
So keep pushing. Keep hiding. Keep running. Keep lying. Keep making me feel like ****. Keep telling me I'm worth nothing. Keep shutting me out. Keep me at arm's length. Keep breaking me. Keep your secrets. Keep away from me.
And see if I care.
See if I give a ****.
Because I do.
I wrote this on March 20 - and at the time I was feeling off balance and like something was up. A little later I would know for sure. And hurt like mad too.
