Freedom.

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In the end, I have to let go of my grip. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, I’m only me. I can’t make you care. I can’t make you remember small details about me, because that’s what really shows you who I am. I can’t force you to say sweet nothings to me, reminding me daily of what your love truly looks like. I can’t give you my all, and then fill your shoes to love me well in return. I just can’t do it. Not anymore. And maybe I’m not supposed to. Maybe I shouldn’t have to.

If I end up not being enough, then I’m sorry I couldn’t be more for you. I’ve given you my all – heart, body and soul alike. When I loved before, I lost myself. I told myself I’d never let that happen again. Yet here I am, searching for me without you – looking for a spotlight at a nearby shore, even a glimpse for me to get by on. Trying like hell to grip anything. Trying to be strong for you, for me. To beat the statistics. But I can’t be two people. I can’t force your heart.

In the end, I can’t make you love me.

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