Ah! Shit!

When a romance comes to an end, be it with your pet or a loved one, we tend to stray into a self-pitying cycle, fueled by the mere existence of that person, rightfully so, sometimes. It's often filled with constant regrets, endless whys: Why did I waste my time on them? Why did they leave? Why do my pants suddenly not fit anymore? These are commonalities in the list of frustrations we all feel. But I fixate on a more trivial question, and perhaps that's why the only 'why' I ask is: Why did I spend so many words on them? Not because I'm eloquent or poetic; I often avoid expressing feelings altogether. That might be the reason for my excessive use of adjectives, adverbs, and connective words, just as a substitute for a simple 'I like you.' I would rather analyze a man's mid-jawline, search for meme-worthy greetings, and cram through Webster for a better term than 'big dick energy' than be direct. And that's what disappoints me most: the fact that I could write paragraphs to avoid saying 'I love you,' knowing you can't say that to a person you met two days ago, or as an adult with responsibilities. But then it all ends, and I'm left speechless, both literally and quiet figuratively.

The amount of vocabulary I possess, and how little of it remains after every interaction, is truly concerning. Or maybe, just maybe, after all the countless back-and-forths I'll have with many, I will let go of the excessive prose and Twitter quotes; all that will remain are those forbidden words: the 'I like you's' and 'I love you's.'