Anxiety

It's not the anxiety which stops me from texting you.

Everyday, I think of you.

And I feel I should talk to you. But I'm afraid.

I avoid asking you how your day was, because I know you won't answer me.

Everyday I think of you.

And I wish I could just explain everything to you.

About how it feels.

About how I so badly want us to be together.

But I can't.

Because, I know, imagining us together, is just a dream for me now.

I am the dumbest person ever, who had the chance of being with you.

But I wasted it.

I regret that decision.

I still wish I had said yes.

I still wish I could go back in time and prevent the glass from shattering.

Everyday, I think of you.

I remember your face, when I rejected you, because I was afraid of commitments.

I was so locked up in my web of future plans that I forgot to live the present, with you.

Now, I know how it must have hurt you.

But then, the tables decided to turn.

And now, it was I who was in love with you.

But, you had already moved on.

You had lost all hopes of us being together as one.

That was the start of my relationship with you.

The catch?

It was one-sided.

I had lost you, just like that, because I didn't have the guts to commit myself to you.

It's not the anxiety which stops me from texting you.

It's you.

I keep looking at your profile, my thumb always on the backspace.

I can't text you when I see, 'last seen: a year ago.'

No issues.

I'm coming to get you, soon.