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I would sit around all day and write romantic love poems for her, she would see me with pen and pad in hand and in that moment I would be both close to her and completely distant. Not able to connect to what connects with me.
She was my heart and soul and the truth is in some ways I should have been my own. You cant love when your concern is losing the one you love. The universe is ever expanding and so is my love.
Or that is what I believe. I know that it will bend and break me and could make me into a bitter version of my best self. Imagine looking in a mirror and seeing your alter ego, in rejection thats where we go.
But the truth is I was never fighting for her love, she gave it to me willingly. I admired that about her and maybe more so I admired that about me and her willingness to be a part of that.
