I held back the tears as I typed on my phone. I paused. She was hurt. I knew she was hurt. It made me hurt. I didn't mean it. I felt so guilty as I read.

(I don't understand how you find it so easy to lash out at me. I've been here for you since the beginning. I haven't left, I haven't done anything wrong. You just seem to yell at me for the littlest things and I don't know how to take it. You want me to leave? Fine. I'll go.)

This wasn't what I wanted. No. My heart seemed to beat out of time. I knew this feeling. I got it before I left an empty house or had to wash eggs and garbage out of my hair after a long day of bullying. When I thought everything was lost. When I was afraid to loose something important. She was something important. I tried to find it in me to fight with her some more but I was afraid. Afraid I would push her too far and lose her forever. Afraid of what she might say to me. Afraid of how quick she could tear me apart. I never left a scratch.

(Please don't go.)
I knew I sounded whiny and childish. I was begging her to stay. I was sitting in my room crying and pleading with her not to go. I knew I was the weaker one. I always knew I was the one who folded and apologized. The one who couldn't take a joke and brought nothing of value.

(I'm so sorry.)
I had to prove that I was worth saving, that I was worth putting up with. But how could I do that when I didn't believe it myself? I swallowed my sobs. I tried to remain calm. All I could think was that it was too late. It was lost and I'd have to get on my knees and beg for her back.

(You're my best friend. I love you.)
I had said more in between, more to try and convince her that the harsh words weren't me, but those last two sentences. Those were important. I sent the message quickly. I tried to not hesitate. I was putting myself out there now. I didn't love easily. I awaited her reply. I was nervous. Time told me that she would reject me. She would laugh. She would leave.

I stared at the phone. No response. My breathing became ragged. Tears blinded my vision, the light of my phone turning into a muted glow. I was shaking slightly as I tried to blink away the water in my eyes. How could I explain how I felt? How could I explain how sorry I was? How I didn't have a real reason for what I said. How she deserved so much more. I wiped my eyes. My heart settled at the pit of my stomach. What ifs plagued my thoughts. The phone vibrated.

(I don't understand what you want from me.)

I wanted to scream. I wanted to grab her fading memory by the shoulders and shake her until she realized. Until she understood. I couldn't explain. I couldn't comprehend how I felt, how she made me feel. Like I was someone. Like I was worth saving. Like I mattered. I didn't want her to see me as a monster, a jerk, a waste. I took a breath. I tried to collect my thoughts. I typed. I typed and typed then paused. Thought. Then resumed, ending the explanation with something that mattered. Something that was heartbreakingly true.

(And I just feel so selfish because I shouldn't be this way, I shouldn't be so clingy but all I want to do is never let you go.)

I clicked send before I could second guess myself. She knew too much. I sounded crazy, like a loon. The last sentence was important. It was from the heart. It meant the most.

It was quiet. I got up from the bed. This was ridiculous. I sat on the floor, plopping myself on my blue carpet. The tears were still fighting to break through. I was driving myself crazy, wanting only to show how I felt. But the complexity of the emotions was too much for a single text message. It had to be shown, to be seen in person. My phone lit up. I flinched slightly.

(Then don't.)

I burst into tears.