It’s hard to decide whether something is really worth fighting for or not.
Sure, I still love him, but that doesn’t mean he still loves me.
He could be over it. Maybe he’s not waiting for me to call or to show up at his house and fight for him. Maybe this wasn’t a test to see how much I actually cared, and maybe he doesn’t miss me the way that I miss him.
But maybe he does.
Maybe he really just didn’t have enough time to be who he wanted to be for me. Maybe sometimes he wishes I would call or show up and not give him a choice but to come with me. Maybe he wanted me to prove to him that I am willing to fight.
He still cares. He does. Maybe he even loves me. But obviously that wasn’t enough for him. Love wasn’t enough. All, every single ounce, of my love wasn’t enough. If it was he’d be here. He’d stop “waiting” for me to come and get him and he would come and get me.
The hope of “maybe” isn’t enough for me, just like I wasn’t enough for him.