I know that you don’t tell me everything – that’s why we’re not together anymore, right? You keep the little things to yourself, and I can’t deal with that – I’d rather we were completely open.

Trust is important.

But now I want to back down. I’m not sure what to do anymore. I’d rather throw that whole ultimate trust thing out the window and start again.

I don’t know what you think anymore – you still don’t tell me. There are things you said before... I don’t know... There are things you said that made me think I should risk the pain – to trust you, unrequitedly. To have a faith in you.

Now I know what you meant. Because I don’t know how to talk to you anymore. I don’t know if you still care, or if you’d be hurt if I moved on. I don’t think I could tell you if I did, but that’s because I’m scared you wouldn’t mind.

I wish I could do what you do – the way you can be so breezy, letting us drift. But I can’t – I started that drift. I can’t help thinking you hope for me to save us, to tell you that I have thought about you every day for six months, to take that risk.

I feel like I’m playing chicken. But whether it’s with you, or by myself, I have no idea.