Maybe I’m not pessimistic, maybe I’m just a realist. I’m realistic about life and people. I’m realistic about how emotions work and change over time. I guess I have time to figure out ‘what I am’ but I think it’s time to decide what I’m not. I don’t want to be someone who is afraid anymore.
You wanted me to be temporary – until something better came along; a new opportunity, a new adventure, a new escape. You wanted me to fit the mold of how you wanted to be loved, and I just couldn’t.
I don’t know which is harder;
or letting yourself be loved.
it’s weird the way some people just fit.
like shoes or sweaters or
the way my mouth fits perfectly
pressed against yours.