I am touched that you still try, that you still want me in your life, never mind that I'm more often than not found at the fringes of your waking mind's eye, at the outskirts of the light that is your memory.

I am happy we're still cool, despite everything.

But right now?

I honestly don't know if you're still worth all that trouble, never mind the six or seven years I've been lighting these candles in my chest, counting stars in the sky, or watching the sea and thinking of you, rising from waves like a lovely mermaid with arms open for me and me alone.

All that I've done, and as hard as it is for me to cast you like a cancer, a part of me finds that I'm probably really cutting off the nerves that makes the heart beat. That I really want you back. That I really did mean it when I said that I loved you, and that the many years I've lived really add up to this moment when I realize that I really can't take that back.

And it kills me because I know I should really just leave you on the wayside, after all the crap you've made me feel.