Ache.

A distraction is on my mind.
The pit of my stomach is aching badly, fearing the answers to the questions.
I don't want to but I know I have to.
Or else it will play out wrong.
It wouldn't be me.


The worst thing of doing something easy is that you get time to replay at least ten thousands scenerios of how it will be, what the answers will be, until it happens.

I wish there was someone here to distract me.

The true question is what will I do if the answer I truly fear the most is said out loud?
It will be true.
I'll brake down. Shut down. Shut everybody else out.

I will sobingly pick up the pieces that are left. Lying there on the floor.
I don't know how long it will take to make it whole again but I will try to put it together.

Why does it feel like I already have the answer?
Has it been unvisibly showing it's ugly face to me? My subconsciousness just convinced that nothing was off?
If not, then why do I feel like this? The feeling is not comforting. Not safe. Not you.
I'm doing my best here without anyone responding.
Please talk to me.

All I am asking for is you and everything that comes with it. The good and the bad.

But then again you can always imagine how you'll react, what you will say, your actions.
I don't know.
All I know is that I will shed a river of tears for you and that my heart will brake.
But that is the game of love and I went into it knowingly thinking you are worth the ache.


And I know you are.

Whatever happens.

I just wish I meant the same for you. That you could say it. But maybe I'm asking to much?