Of course it happens now. The timing is always wrong, the feelings never reciprocated. There’s always something that holds me back.

I can’t talk for fear of crying. It’s almost over. What will I do when it’s over? Will things be the same? No, they won’t. We’ll fall apart.

No more whispered secrets, private jokes in public places. I’ll watch from the sidelines and cheer. I’ll cheer for everything we’ve done and everything we’ve yet to do. It’s almost over. I feel sick.