Off the table.

Suck it up. Calm it down. Move on. It's over.
Suck it up. Don't break down. Spit it out. Start over.

Closure. It's a funny old thing isn't it. It doesn't always come in the same joyful free spirit package you're used to, sometimes it's forced upon you. It's weird that closure, a thing you need to move on, can be something someone hands to you. It's even weirder when the person who gives you this long awaited gift is the one you've needed saving from the whole time.

"If that's what you want then fine, it's off the table chick x"

It hurt for a moment, I'm not gonna lie, it did. To hear that what you've feared all along, that your feelings are wasted and there is nothing you can do because you've just been given the sealed envelope, the story with 'The End' written at the bottom, and no matter how much you scrub that ink isn't going to move, hurts. Of course it does. Even when honestly you've always know that anyway. To hear it from the mouth of the person killing you, for them to become the one saving you instead with those three simple words, "Off the table", makes it all the more final than you ever could yourself.

I never expected him to give me the closure. The him who has filled so many of my posts with stories of second chances and swallowing pride. But he has. And all I can say is

thank you x