Tears stream down my cheek. Not because I’m sad. Because waiting has become unbearable.

I crave you in the smallest ways. To take your face in my hands. To feel your lips with mine. To hear your breathing even out as you fall asleep. To know your morning routine and to hear you call my name across a room.

I don’t need grand romance or a life of adventure, though I know you’ll give me both of those. I just need your hand in mine when it’s hard. I need to feel it firm and hard. To know that you’re real. That will be enough.

Because as unbearable as it becomes, waiting for you is the best thing I’ve ever done.

And perhaps, I never needed to recover after all.

Move on.

Just when I think it’s finally over, that you’ve accepted what is, you find a way back into my life. The only place I forgot to block you. The one way you could reach out. The same words typed, over and over, that last plead to change my mind. I cannot continue playing this game. Day after day, nothing has or will changed.

You are not the martyr you believe yourself to be. You don’t deserve pedestals or praise. Repeating the words “I want you to be happy” doesn’t make you the better person. I know what I did. I know I had one foot out the door from the day we met. I know I moved on before letting you go. I will not deny what that makes me, but what I am does not define what you are. You are the result of your own choices, not mine.

There is nothing you can say to change a thing; not my thoughts about you or the state of my wellbeing. See, he gives me everything you never could, even from a million miles away, and that says more about you and me then some falsely intentioned well wishes ever could.

Move on. That’s all I have to say. Take your feelings of regret and channel it into being better for someone else. I am not yours, I never was and never will be. Move on. It’s so much more than too little too late. It was never meant to be.

Move on.

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