Here’s the thing. Right now, you’re on the boat I’ve wanted to sail through the vast seas with but will never go around to really riding it. I keep telling myself you being there is okay. But whilst convincing, I kept the boat on the port holding on to the rope keeping you at bay. Then the currents started pulling you away and I let them for a little while because I am confident of the strength of the rope that still connects us together. But just as I was about to pull you back in, the currents got stronger so while I was pulling in, it was pulling out. The rope starts slipping in my hands and it took every ounce of me to hold it together, to get you from going away. The sad thing is, but most probably for the best, you just look at me, with those deep gray eyes that are masked with panic and nervousness that says you don’t want to be let go but at the same time, is telling me you are unwilling to jump and swim back even if we both know how good of a swimmer you are. You just watch me as I’m forced to let the last end of the rope go, totally losing our connection. You risk a glance forward and that was the last time I ever saw your face because you didn’t ever look back again. And me? I’m still stuck at the port just watching you because I never really learned how to swim.