“What’s stopping you from loving?”

“I don’t dare to reach out to you because that’s an invitation – me expressing that I want you is already exposing my fondness i.e. my weakness – awaiting for your acceptance, and of course rejection.

I think I will die from overthinking and losing my sanity, and I will die again when you subtly tell me to fuck off in your gentle “no”, so essentially my survival hinge on the maybe that your heart would return my desperate pleading calls.

I’m not so foolish in giving you the power to completely destroy me; to be absolutely and utterly vulnerable by attaching meaning in whatever your answer may be, along with the real danger of shredding my heart into a million pieces.

I’m not so courageous to take a chance that perhaps you feel the same way towards me and we can build a future together, miraculously borne out of acting upon a small possibility.

Can you see how much I adore you? That mere statistics of you maybe not liking me the same way I do can refrain me to such degree, and cripple me into a mess of a human being. I stopped myself from telling you these because dying slowly from this unease of not knowing is marginally better than the idea of being condemned to instantaneous death from the very person I hope will never hurt me.”


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