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I know, I know. The title sounds dramatic. It’s clickbait, and I’ll probably delete this in 24 hours once the emotional hangover subsides, but right now, this is my reality, and I need to get it out there.
Let me paint a picture for you. Imagine meeting someone, a spark, that familiar feeling of chemistry. You think, “Oh, this is it. This is where it all begins.” You get into this thing, this gray zone—call it what you will—where you're not really together, but you’re not really apart either. A situationship, a word that should come with a warning label, like "Handle with care." But nope, I dove in headfirst, no helmet, no lifeguard. I didn’t even know how deep the water was.
He took my time, my space, my mental peace. And what did I get in return? A side of confusion, a sprinkle of false promises, and a dash of "Maybe we should take it slow" that turned into a constant standstill. I gave my all—laughs, late-night talks, emotional vulnerability—and he gave me... well, the occasional text and some really good playlists. But hey, no complaints, right? After all, what was I expecting? A love story straight out of a rom-com?
Here’s the twist. One day, after I’d been holding onto these unspoken hopes for far too long, I wanted more. And when I…
