Why do I feel like you’re always out of reach? Like, no matter how hard I try to grasp onto you, you pull backwards, refusing. It wasn’t always like this. We used to be inseparable. Maybe we weren’t voted cutest couple of the year and sometimes our friends disagreed that we should be together, but we fought through it. We told each other, “Let’s make this happen.” But now we’re tumbling, falling, and no matter how hard I try to explain it to you time and time again, you refuse to listen. I get the same feeling every time: I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down, so close to falling, teetering on the edge of my heels. Then, comes the plunge…and it’s like I’m submerged underwater, and I can’t breathe, and the water fills up my lungs, drowning me. You tell me I’m being overdramatic, that this time is our last, and I’m scrambling again for feelings and emotions I’m afraid I do not possess to make you feel better. It was always about you, wasn’t it? You said the same about me; that the world revolved around me and that my mood determined yours. How could two people so close become like separate continents? Look at this ocean between us. Tell me it’s killing you too. Tell me that late at night you think of me and all the mistakes you made and inside, you forgive me for the ones I’ve made too. Because I don’t know how much longer I can handle this.