What hurts the most?
Probably the fact that I can never prove it happened.
There’s no evidence of us ever being anything meaningful.
No proof of everything we were.
Sure, I have a few texts that I can’t bring myself to delete.
And yeah, there’s the one adorable screenshot from the summer we spent waiting.
But that’s it.
No pictures together, no cute little gifts, nothing.
He can go on to the next one without ever having to explain me.
I could be his secret.
If he chooses to regret me, nobody will ever even know.
That’s what kills me.
He was everything, but I could be nothing.