I thought that it would be ‘fine’, or at least ‘okay’, but it wasn’t ‘fine’ nor ‘okay’, it was fucking terrible. It was this aching and persistent pain which I couldn’t get a hold of. It was the kind of heart break that leaves you wondering.. why why why why. And you’ll never get an honest answer so you begin blaming yourself. And when you begin blaming yourself you’re starting to realize that it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault that she decided to leave. I was never the one to blame for the fact that we’re not speaking to each other anymore. I tried, I tried my best to make things work. I tried to give her space, I respected her feelings and her fears. But what I didn’t respect was the fact that I was never given a chance. She knew. She knew after all that it wouldn’t last longer than three weeks. Because she would give up and walk away. She would do anything to protect herself from being hurt again. She would rather keep her guards than to accept my love for her. Because I had so many stories about the stars in her eyes, but they dimmed on a cloudy evening. Because I had so many things I wanted to show her, but now I look for her in every crowded room. Because I had so many words I wanted to give to her, and now I spill them like red wine on a tablecloth.
The overthinking 