A Love Too Heavy to Hold

She loves me— but I wish she didn’t. I wish she would say she loves me. I wish she would say she doesn’t. I wish she would release me from this endless war between knowing and doubting, from the weight of wanting to love her as much as she deserves— and failing. I ask her if she loves me, again and again, hundreds of times a day, watching her eyes for something— a flicker, a shadow, a sign that maybe today she will say no, and I will finally be free. She wonders why I ask, why my voice trembles as if her love were a thing I could break just by touching it. She does not know that I am not searching for her answer— I am searching for mine. If she did not love me, I would not have to be enough. I would not have to stretch my heart into a shape it was never meant to take. I would not have to fear that one day, she will wake up and realize I was never worthy of her love— only of her leaving.