I try to talk about us ending but that would mean there would have had to have been a middle or even a beginning. We fell into each other in the sense that I had holes in my heart and you had a tight fist and it made sense for me to try to squeeze myself into it.

I try to think about what would’ve happened if the circumstances had been different-if you hadn’t been sad this summer or if I knew how to wear my heart anywhere but on my sleeve. I don’t even know where your line of sight was, or how your heart was beating when it was close to mine, but it wasn’t enough. Burning isn’t something I’m good at, but it would’ve been easier to flame than it was to try to tell you that we’ve always been more than friends. I don’t think you’d want to believe me even if I had the whole world behind me. I know now that you don’t want to hear that there’s a reason that things between us have always been easy.

Letting this go is hard but knowing that you don’t have anything to let go of hurts in a gut punch kind of way. I think about what it would be like to have never had it cross my mind- to be able to sleep and walk and pass time without it occurring to me to think about you as I do it. Instead, I think about how I could’ve loved you in every season: in snow on your nose, leaves tangled in your hair, in sand stuck between our fingers. That’s something you’ve never even thought about, but maybe that’s always been a warning sign.

So now it’s my favorite season and the leaves are changing and we don’t talk. I look at the leaves that have stayed green and think that some things don’t know how to change with the rest. Some things, even the best of them, don’t know when change is good to them.

—  don’t call me when you figure out how to be red