Maybe it’s not even you. Maybe it’s more like the idea of you. Or the idea that I wouldn’t be so alone, so empty if you were here. Maybe this isn’t even about love. Maybe this is more like a longing of me to have someone to turn to every time I feel like fading. Maybe this is more like a wish of mine for this loneliness to go away, and you just happen to be there so that I clinged onto your presence so bad. Maybe I’m delusional, because my heart is so good at tricking my brain. Maybe I’m not actually feeling what I’m feeling. Maybe this isn’t real. Maybe I’m just in love with a memory, with a fantasy. Maybe I’m just heartbroken over a reality, because my wishes didn’t come true. Maybe. But what if this is what I actually think it is? What if this is actually love that I’m feeling? What if love is actually so bitter, so painfully consuming that you can’t do anything else when it breaks your heart? I don’t— I can’t tell the difference anymore. It’s all so mixed up. Why does it have to be so complicated?
Maybe. But what if?
1 month ago