I wanted to say it.

The urge to blurt it out, to use it as a sloppy apology, was overwhelming.

But why did it feel like I was lying?

Maybe I’d used it this strange way all this time.

What if it had never been more than just a phrase thrown in to reverse the effects of my words?

To tell, rather than show, that I wasn’t angry, that I wasn’t sad, that I wasn’t trapped?

Maybe it was the last gasp of that small, sickly voice that I’d begun to overcome by pushing my lover away when I needed to, coming back to pretend that I felt how I wanted to feel.

That I felt what was easier to understand.

The phrase was on my tongue, inching off of my lips.

Old habit was kicking in, even at this time, when I was pushing away for good.

But at the very last moment, I swallowed the words.

I refused to hide from my emotions any longer.

I refused to lie, for myself, or for anyone else.

There was no more to be said.