There are two things that terrify me in this life: seeing you again and never seeing you again. I don’t know which one I’m more afraid of, and that feels like the worst part. Because seeing you means risking everything I barely managed to rebuild. And never seeing you means accepting that this is it, that whatever we were just ends quietly, without proof it ever mattered.
I think about what it would be like to run into you. How my body would know before my brain did. How I’d smile like nothing ever broke, like I didn’t spend nights convincing myself not to reach out. I don’t trust myself around you. I never did.
But not seeing you at all scares me in a different way. It means you slowly become a story I tell less often. A name I stop checking for. It means one day I’ll realize I’ve gone hours, maybe days, without thinking of you, and I won’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated.
So I stay here, stuck between futures: one where you come back and remind me of everything I was, and one where you never do, and I have to figure out how to be someone else without you ever knowing who I became.
