I can't read it yet. I can see the blinking number on the closed tab, I know it’s you. I hit the link, trembling. Your name in white letters against the blue background. A message. The little red number jumps. Two messages. Three. Four. To click on it takes more strength then I have right now. So much rejection, so much disappointment in my life building up to this. Midnight, with my mouse hovering over the name that's come to mean so much to me over the past few years. Seeing it on my phone has the power to steal my breath away. Seeing it now on my computer feels like a hammer waiting to smash a glass window to colorful broken shards. I'm terrified that's what you'll do to me. Shatter me. I've assigned you so much importance, more than is safe. More than is wise. I should have learned by now the chances you take when you care for someone so deeply. I did this to myself, but the reward was too sweet to resist. You drew me in like a moth to the flame, all the while knowing there would be danger and pain waiting for me. I did it though, I told you everything. All you are to me. Exactly why I care so deeply for you. I poured my heart out and prayed to God you saw my sincerity, the depth of what I feel for you and are moved by it. I can't take this wonderful reprieve from your answer any longer, it’s killing me. I click. The hammer strikes, the shards crack and litter the floor, glittering like teas. I realize there comes a time when broken things must stay broken. I can try to gather the glass and pasted a semblance of a beating heart together later. For now I’ll flood the world with all the pain I can’t put to words in my tears. Another scars, another hole, another stain on my soul. Some things must stay broken, and maybe I can pull myself together and throw myself into life once more. But for now I’m content to cry in a summer’s midnight silence.