graceyeoh:

Everyone thinks the most painful kinds of love are the ones that got away. Or the ones that stay unrequited for years; one party falling, the other guarding. Or the ones that you can predict are never going to work out, but you try anyway. Or even the ones that tear you down and spit you out.

But I think the worst kinds are the ones that never really begin. The ones that rest on the laurels and comfort of an amazing friendship. The ones that are never said aloud, but felt so deep. The ones that don’t begin because it’s simply the wrong time and the wrong place. The ones that you know could be mind blowing, but you don’t want to run the risk of ruining what you have. The ones that aren’t crushing on impact, but slow to kill. The ones that slowly worm their way into your life, leaving tiny cracks on your heart; enough for you to know they’re there, but not enough to kill. The ones that always leave you hanging on — not that you’re ever sure of what it is you’re holding on to. The ones that exist solely on sideway glances, eye-contact, and hands accidentally brushing up against each other. The ones that fall into an uncomfortable grey area. The ones that everyone else can see so clearly, but you refuse to. The ones that you don’t realise mean so much to you until the day you’re left without it — and then you feel lost, not because of your loss but because you’re taken aback by how much it means to you.

The ones that you spend your entire life wondering what could have been.