It’s a grey morning.
It reminds me of your letters and the way you make me feel when I think of you. How is it that a few lines on paper can evoke such strong memories? Words have always had such a strong impact on my life, and your words keep running through my head like a haunting melody.
I keep replaying our last night, that last night we spent together in our favourite spot.
The look on your face. The hurt in your voice. The catch in mine.
I wondered if I was making the right decision.
“I wanted so much to fight for you.”
I wanted to hold you close and cradle your head close so you could hear my heartbeat, and I could only hope that you could understand the erratic thumping of my heart.
I’ve been such a selfish child this entire time, and the one moment that my mother expressed her preference, I felt like I owed her that much.
Maybe I jumped too hard, too fast. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was self-sacrifice.
But I think my heart spoke differently.
It’s a grey morning.
Like the dull beat of my heartbeat.
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