The last thing I want to do is to hurt you. To obligate. To burden. To make you worry, angry, or helpless. 

So, I'm backing away. Giving you space to be with others. To breathe. To give you chance to notice that I'm not there anymore, in my quiet little corner. 

It hurts, I cannot lie. To be suddenly be on the background, to hold my tongue, to bite my fingers. To turn off the lights and stay quieter. Waiting. Doing nothing. 

There's one thing that I can say. 

"I'll try." 

Picture of Cecilia Parades' Crisantemo (2009) was borrowed from here


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