The distance between us took a while, and it would be unfair to rest the burden of our failure solely on him. I was too busy to notice the things I was stacking between us: my success, my business, my exhaustion, my excuses. Every once in a while I’d notice it, that the little things weren’t making me smile. Or that his presence made me feel guilty and annoyed rather than blissful. I used my new feelings about him and myself as a wall; it was a wall of subconscious guilt. He’d walk into a room and I’d think: What do you want from me now? Why can’t you just figure this out on your own? Why do
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