I know I had thought about you more than I should have. When I was getting dressed, when I was attempting to fall asleep by staring at my ceiling fan, when I was alone in my room listening to music I didn’t mind when your name encompassed me in a tight grip from which I couldn’t get away. It didn’t bother me if I daydreamed and wished on stars. I had a thing for you.
I loved you despite the fact that I knew we’d end up being just another unrequited love tale. I was conscious of my own existence.
I knew asking myself to stop, as well as reminding myself that I was destroying my own heart, wouldn’t work, but you were a bright spot in my life. The sun, around which everything revolved. I didn’t want to lose track of you. I wanted you to notice something.
But I was never noticed by you, and the only thing that kept me going was the dream that one day you would notice me, that one day you would miraculously open your eyes and see that I had fallen in love with you and that you would reciprocate. I knew it was all a fiction, but the thought made me fall even deeper in love.
Love is complicated by the fact that it is the single aspect of life over which we have no control. We might be in love with someone despite the toxicity, defects, and everything else going wrong in their lives. Because I could feel my heart cracking, I wanted to run, but the notion made me ache much more.
I wish I hadn’t spent so much time impulsively adoring you, but I realised I was an avalanche on the way down with no way out. The only way for this to end was for it to crash, and even preparing for impact would be excruciatingly painful.
Because I knew I was on a roller coaster and that it was my fate to fall in love with heartbreak, I lived vicariously through my hopes.
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