I don't know if deleting your messages meant I was brave enough to let them go; to never let our old conversations stay me awake all night; to never read them again and never hope time would have stopped when we were both on the verge of telling we want to be together.
Or maybe I was never really brave at all. Perhaps deleting them meant I was too afraid of breaking again even when I'm already shattered; afraid that I might read them every night and I would fall in love all over again. Perhaps I was so scared because I know I would miss you more each time I reread them and there's nothing I could do about it.