Some real shit is discovering that the person you created in your head (cause let’s face it, you don’t know jack about them) is not the sensitive, intelligent, observer you spent nights imagining them to be. It took one casual sentence from one objective onlooker for the shutters to drop and my eyes are now viciously open. It’s almost laughable how I can create something out of nothing, how I can make the very ordinary and very flawed into something who could almost maybe probably hold the secret to saving me from myself.
In the words of the great Ada Maria: “Ok, you’re kinda sexy. But you’re not really special”.
Cue cruel reality checks. I am so caught up in my alternate reality that the only blurred lines are the ones I’m creating in my head. The facts: I am single- handedly destroying something that took years to build on a fragile foundation, for a cause and determination that I am frightened I don’t have the confidence or significance to carry through with.
It’s all a bit too far gone though isn’t it? No turning back now. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Where are the words I need to describe the dull ache in my chest every time I look at him without him knowing? He smiles and jokes and in his beautiful eyes I see the truth. His sadness is visceral. I know I have caused it and i’m sorry sorry sorry.
But I am ready to be bold again. I am ready to fill this empty vessel with things that make my blood pulse and my heart roar. Listen. I am ready to feel things again.