Things that you find so endearing at the start becomes annoying.
Late night conversations becomes a burden, something that is keeping you away from something else you need to do, and you start getting frustrated, looking at your clock, willing the other person to end the call first.
A casual mention of something escalates into a full blown argument.
And you start fighting about things that you don’t even really care about but suddenly seems worthy of you putting your relationship on the line for.
Slowly, you find that you can’t remember what made you fall for this person. You can’t think of a single good thing to say about him.
Then one day, you decide enough is enough. You decide you’re tried your best.
And it’s over.
You start to adjust to this new life. The one where he isn’t a main character, maybe just a supporting character who pops up every once in a while, maybe he doesn’t even appear anymore.
Then once in a while, something comes up that reminds you of him. And you start to think of him, and reminisce over the good times you once shared.
And you start thinking if you really had tried your best. If the moment that you thought was the end was really the end.
Could things have ended up differently if you just tried for one more day? One more month?
Just like how all those months ago, when you were still trying, you forced yourself to remember his good points, the good memories, now you find yourself trying to remember everything bad, what pushed you to decide it wasn’t what you wanted anymore.
And you question yourself, if all this doubt you’re feeling is because you’re not over him, or because you can’t deal with being alone and you’re afraid that was as good as it got.
What if I tried harder?
What if he was the one?
What if I never find anyone else?
What if?
