If you keep closing yourself off from me, it won’t help. You’re not gonna fix anything, you’re not gonna get better. You know this just as well as I do. And you still choose to ignore me, building a wall between us and refusing to let me cross it.

I’m sitting right next to you. If I reached out my hand, it would gently rest on your cheek, staying there until you finally released the first tear. Until you finally admitted that sharing your pain is better than pretending you’re not hurting.

But if I actually reached out my hand to you, you’d push me away.

I look at you as you stare ahead. At the TV playing shows you don’t like. The remote in your hand, elbows bent. You’re wearing a hoodie, your head tucked inside.

What should I do? What should I say? And what if I’m just being toxic, fighting my way to get to you? Somewhere you’re not ready to have me just yet. But what if you’re never gonna be ready?

How am I supposed to know when to give you space, and when to leave before your anxieties become mine?

Are you ever gonna communicate? Are you ever gonna cry? Are you ever gonna take down that wall you’ve thrown me behind?

Or should I leave?