I’m pouring myself into the void, sometimes knowingly, but other times not quite so. The fact that it all starts so innocently with my hope resting that it was a miscommunication is the default position. I conjure the reasons, “life gets in the way, life is hectic, life is busy,” but then slowly realize that those are valid reasons but just not applicable here.

And so I leave myself waiting, jilted at the altar of send and receive with texts remain unanswered, and emails left unreturned. The optimism that I affix to slowly weens itself for me, leaving to realize that the wall imposed between myself and the other is a deliberate one. There aren’t any excuses, only reasons that I don’t know of.

So what it is that stings are not words – those merely bruise. It is the eventual realization of silence and its overarching presence, which delivers a swift blow when acknowledged. And that hits harder than any words ever could, especially since the end result is that my heart is fractured.

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