The minutes have never crawled more slowly and yet, I am utterly unprepared for what I am anxiously waiting for. Thoughts of him swim around in my mind like schools of fish nibbling every last piece of sanity that my heart can cling to. What really frightens me is that I do not have an answer myself to the question I wish to ask him.
Is this the start of something anew or are we burning a bridge? Damned if I knew.
Why is it that I can't dismiss hesitation and swing a blade swiftly?
Why is it that I worry more about the wounds I might inflict on him even as I bleed away myself?
Why is it that he's holding back when he knows I treat him perfectly?
Why is it I obsess over these whys when he's probably not even right for me?
Should this be an end to ten weeks of dreams, then let my hands not turn bloody with the stain of a selfish act.
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