You shut her up+out
And then you wonder
Why she's got nothing to say now

You are pushing me away. I know you won't do that to me, and I also figured out that you probably haven't realised that you're doing this, but you are - in tiny ways.

Yeah, I get it that you are busy.
I am too.
I guess I am the foolish one here who prioritizes you above other things most of the time.

Yeah, I get that sometimes you forget.
Ever thought - Why don't I forget?
I intentionally did one day, and you knew me enough to notice that, but maybe you still didn't realise why I did.

Yeah, I get that it gets irritating sometimes.
I talk too much.
It's just that you are one of the few people I can actually talk to, and I think it's the same for you, and thus I thought maybe you won't get tired of my babbling. You know better than most how I'm the shy one who barely has words in front of the rest of the world.

Yeah, you do support me in every way possible.
And you have now idea how grateful I am to have you in the way I have you.
Yet, sometimes it's the small things that prick - the minuscule ones.

Yeah, I know I over think and over analyze and over worry.
I thought you'd understand why I'm insecure in those small things, having gone through a lot together.

Yeah, I know which of my behavior saddens you and I'm making efforts to change that.
I just thought maybe you'd make the same adjustments and have an equal respect for my feelings too and that's what I hoped when I told you why and what hurts me.

I know our dictionaries, though they match, aren't exactly the same.
Try using mine for once.

Yeah, I think you probably don't mean any of this intentionally and still care for me the same, but it's hurting me all the same.

I'm feeling as if I'd better be silent around you.
And no, it's not like we aren't speaking, we're still there for each other, we truly are.
My day is filled with stuff I want to share, to talk and laugh and cry and think about, and it's kind of my reflex action to tell you.
Yet, I must stop.
It's just that I'm worried that once I do, there will be a point where you will be there to listen and I won't have anything to say anymore.
I don't know about you, but I'm really scared of seeing that day.

You don't and won't know it now, but I'm sliding away. A tiny fraction of an inch at a time. But I am.
I have to, I think.
I'm feeling like there's no other option to stop hurting in every other thing. You know I'm so so scared to do that, I never want to leave you, that too over this insignificant stuff, even in my wildest dreams that would be a nightmare.
Even still, I'd have to deal with that pain - of being away from you, if not this one.
It hurts either way.
Hurts like hell.

You know what this has led to?
A war raging inside me.
Me against me.
Most of me tells me to just stop being so damn foolish and grow up and forsake these ideals and throw away these stupid, really stupid and unrealistic expectations. It, and I, don't want to do this to us at all. Not at all.
Yet there's this tiny, real soft voice telling me that maybe I shouldn't change this, shouldn't change me, this time. Maybe my expectations aren't stupid, they're just too high - they're noble, and not worth forgetting; maybe, just maybe, they are worth fighting for.