I love you more than I should. I say that because I know you love someone else, but I can’t help that my feelings for you grow like a nurtured flower. I can’t help it that your smile invades my mind at night when I’m staring at my ceiling.
I wish I could control my need to daydream of you, but the more I try to stop the thoughts and hopes, the more I wish you could just love me.
You love the girl with long brown hair and a beautiful laugh that could stop every man in his tracks, and I can’t compete with her, and I can’t help but hope that you don’t love her in the same way that I love you because then I really do have no chance of ever being with you.
Coming to terms with the fact that, at this point, I’m only hurting myself by loving you has been hard, and even now, my heart refuses to give up your memory. To forget you name. To forget the sound of your voice.
Love has overtaken me, but I can’t help but be realistic about this all. You don’t love me, and even if you knew how I felt about you, I know that wouldn’t change the situation. It would only confirm my assumption that there is no way we could be together.
You are not mine, and the thought hurts worse than anything I’ve ever felt before. I feel wounded and small and not sufficient, and I can’t blame anybody but myself. I’m not upset with myself for loving you, only for stringing myself along like something would change, even when I knew that nothing would.
I know loving you has been one dead end after another, yet my heart doesn’t care. I want to stop loving you, but every time I try, I remember all the reasons I fell for you in the first place. I am stuck in this cycle and I’m starting to think that maybe this isn’t that bad, and maybe it will get better. I can only hope.