I used to cite infinity when I measured the depth of the sea. But now...what is now? A hazy line between yes, no, and maybe. Time and time again, I have washed away flaws in the hope of something better. But my forgiveness and compensation have dried out — is it so much to ask you to care? I fear I was right never to take a chance; if we cannot even be friends, how could we ever be anything more? I planned so many things to say to you — and I thought I was done resorting to writing out my words. Yet, I can’t spill anything out. I will sew my lips shut, and I will cut off my fingers. I will be a mute to you. You will count my silence as compliance, and when you take a knife to my heart, just don’t say I enjoyed it. Crushed by the ambiguity of lies that can’t match the puzzle pieces of truth, I don’t know what’s real anymore. The shore has been a lifeline, but the tides are too strong now. They drag me from the only form of sanctuary I have ever found. I screamed as I drowned, but by then, I have had become a mute, and by then, you have had be-come so deaf to my words.