I told myself I wouldn’t do it again.

Wouldn’t go from “you’re my safe place” to “never talk to me again” in under an hour.

But there I was.

Phone in hand.

Heart racing.

Typing out a block text like my life depended on it.

And the wildest part?

In that exact moment, it felt logical.

It felt like protection.

Like if I didn’t cut you off first, you’d leave me anyway.

Two hours later, I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering how I went from craving your closeness to burning the bridge.

Whiplash.

That’s the split.

It’s not drama.

It’s survival… even if it destroys the very connection I was desperate for.

-Em (borderlinewithwifi)