Would I be any happier if things had been different? If we had met in a different time and different circumstances, would the outcome also differ? There are still so many questions unanswered that we both know will forever remain as assumptions. Despite our attempts to read between the lines and understand each other, we never truly succeeded. We never truly understood each other.
I lied, countless times. I lied to you and most importantly, to myself… but how could I tell you that I love you? I tried to show you but I don’t know if you ever felt it. But… I do love you. There, I said it. I love your strangeness, your scent, your unusual ways, your smile, your touch, you in your entirety. Maybe one day you will realise that you could have loved me. Maybe one day I will get over you and realise that maybe I never truly loved you, but the idea of you. Waiting is all
you I can do.
Started writing this post back in July… finished writing today (last paragraph) and somehow it is all still applicable.