I was the one who ghosted you this time.
I cut things off, like I always do.
It wasn’t you.
You didn’t change;
I just got tired of explaining why we keep ending up here.
Every time, it feels the same.
You’re angry about something I said or did.
I can’t fight back because I’m too tired, too drained.
So I go silent,
and we drift apart.
Days turn into months,
and neither of us says a word.
Then, like clockwork,
I come back.
I miss you...
not who you are now, but who you were when we first met.
I miss the way you used to be, how you made me feel alive.
And I think maybe,
just maybe,
that version of you is still there,
waiting for me.
You’re always mad at first.
Your pride won’t let you forgive me easily. But after a while, you give in.
You always do.
You let me back into your life because you miss me too.
Not the me that stands in front of you now, but the one who...