even though i wanted

There’s a different kind of sadness that comes when you’re not even angry anymore. There was a time when I wanted this so badly. I wanted the conversations, the consistency, the closeness, the reassurance, the feeling that whatever this was between us actually mattered to both of us. I kept trying because I genuinely believed there was something worth saving. I explained myself when it would’ve been easier to stay quiet. I reached out when my pride told me not to. I gave chances, made excuses, tried to understand your side, and kept hoping eventually the effort wouldn’t feel so one-sided. But somewhere along the way, I got tired. Not the kind of tired that disappears after a good night’s sleep—the kind where something inside you simply stops reaching. And that’s when you realize indifference can be much more final than anger. When I’m angry, I still care enough to want something from you. I want an explanation, an apology, a change, some evidence that this mattered. But now? I don’t really need anything. You don’t have to explain yourself anymore. You don’t have to suddenly become everything I was asking for. You don’t even have to understand why I’m leaving. I genuinely hope you’re safe. I hope life is good to you. I hope you eventually find whatever it is you’re looking for. But I can’t keep exhausting myself trying to create a connection that requires me to constantly convince someone else to participate in it. So do you. I’ll do me. There’s no dramatic final argument, no revenge, no hatred. Just the quiet acceptance that I tried—and eventually, trying alone became the reason I had to stop.