Merry Christmas to the open wound

The last month has been silence between us. Even as I have been working on letting you go, there are so many things I have wanted to share with you; Things you once would have been excited to hear.

When you left, I cried less than I thought I would. Maybe it's because we were so cordial, and neither of us wanted it to end. Maybe I was hopeful it wasnt truly over.

I have spent the last month healing a relationship that never really was. Seven months of pretend. Seven months of dreams, of fantasy, of deep emotional connection that could never be more.

I had begun to feel comfortable in the silence you left me with. Phantom vibrations of texts from you came less and less.

And then, I woke up Christmas morning to you wishing me a Merry Christmas.

Time stopped.

I felt sick with excitement and fear. All of the distance and all of the strides I'd made, crumbled at your three words.

I hate that I replied so blandly, that I didnt make more of an effort. But I was in shock, and would a well crafted reply have changed anything? No, I think not.

The bubble I'd begun to put around myself in the last month burst and you did that. Your well wishes sting more than your goodbye.

Because the closure we'd made together, now feels like an open wound and the scar is going to be so much deeper than it would have been, had you not picked the scab.