I thought about you more than I should’ve, and this I knew. While I got ready, when I stared at my ceiling fan trying to fall asleep, when I was alone listening to music in my room. Your name enveloped me in a tight hug that I couldn’t escape from, and I didn’t mind this. I didn’t mind the day dreaming and wishing on stars. I loved you.
I loved you despite knowing that we would be nothing but another love story about unrequited feelings. I was self-aware.
I knew that telling myself to stop wouldn’t work, along with reminding myself that I was breaking my own heart, but you were a sun in my world. A sun in which everything revolved around. I didn’t want to forget you. I wanted you to notice.
I was never noticeable to you, though, and the only thing that kept me going was the hope I had that you would one day see me, that you would one day magically open your eyes and see that I had fallen for you and that you would feel the same in return. I knew this was nothing more than a fantasy, but the idea only made me fall more in love.
What makes love so complicated is the fact that it’s about the only thing in life we can’t control. We could see all of the toxicity and the flaws and everything else going wrong and still be in love with someone despite it all. I wanted to run because I could feel my heart breaking, and yet the thought made me hurt even more.
I wish I hadn’t spent so much time uncontrollably loving you, but I understood that I was an avalanche falling with no stop in sight. The only way this could all end was with a crash, and even bracing for impact, it would hurt like hell.
I vicariously lived through my hopes because I knew that I was on a ride and that it was my fate to fall in love with heartbreak.