Half dead.

I sat and read old notebooks, pages and pages of secrets.
In one you wrote "You look stunning. I didn't know what to say when you got off the bus today... Every moment with you is wonderful."

I refuse to believe you never loved me (not that you ever said that), and I am putting every single speck of myself into holding myself back from you, and letting you be free. It's difficult, when I'm used to clinging onto you like I cling to your arm on a busy sidewalk.

It's crazy to think we've only known each other for a little over two years. Maybe three. You've already made such a difference in my life. You've given me everything I could have ever wanted, and everything I never thought I would be fortunate enough to actually have.

I'm not going to give up on us, I'm just backing off. It's really hard not knowing how you are or where you are or what you're doing. It's hard being apart. For every mile marker between us, there's a tear. For every night I don't speak to you, there's a scar. We can't get those nights back. We just keep progressing, and each hour ticks away and is lost forever. We can't get those exact moments back, or re-do them. But we can make up for lost time, when the time comes. Which is why I decided to let you be you for as long as you need to. Hopefully it won't take long to untie the little knots and tangles inside you, because I miss you...
I miss you a lot.

But I will sit and make art, and write songs, and read books until enough time has passed and you call me and tell me everything's going to be alright again.
I promise I'll wait for you.
No matter how long it takes.