The Things I Almost Send

There is a note on my phone full of things I almost send you.

I miss you.

I hate you.

Did you ever love me the way I loved you?

Do you know what you did to me?

Are you happy?

Do you ever reach for your phone and stop yourself too?

Some nights, I type until there is nothing left in me but the blinking cursor.

Then I read it all back.

And delete every word.

I used to think not sending them meant I was afraid.

Maybe it means I’m finally learning that not every feeling needs to find its way back to the person who caused it.

Some things are allowed to end with me.

— S.