When you don't want to let go

Full text here, from Thought Catalog

We ask each other a lot of questions that we know neither of us can answer. Is this working. Can we be better. Is this worth it. I don't know I don't know I don't know. 

......

I don't want to give up on these things, even though I listed them in order of priority, just in case we break up before we have time to make it through the whole list. But I want them, I want them, I want them. I feel entitled to them, for making it through the boring, frozen winter, where entropy stills and we grow rigid, rigid in our ways. We have almost made it to spring, to the thaw, we can shed our coats and insecurities and grudges and just melt into each other.

...

The idea of wasted sacrifice is too much. The thought of having made so much space for you in my busy, complicated life and my damaged psyche to be left with only pain and loneliness and the "lessons" I've learned is too much to accept. 

With the return of birds' songs and the blossoming of buds, I cautiously start to hope. I embrace the cliche and cheesy symbolism of the rebirth of all that had been dead, the renewal of life and new chances. Maybe we did it wrong, starting as everything else was ending in chilly November. Maybe we jumped into each other's arms simply for a gulp of air and touch in that season of stillness to assure ourselves that there was still warmth somewhere. But then maybe we can make something of this spring to start anew.