It’s not that we have absolutely nothing in common worth discussing. And may I just add that the more unrelatable people are to me (which is basically everyone), the more intrigued I am to know?
Instead, we chose to leave a million questions unanswered and proceeded to exchange blood red hearts. Like casual lovers on a sun setting beach, except we are not entirely sure who that lover actually is.
The whole affair is just a messy tangle of illusions and deceptions, though I’ll admit that it’s whole heartedly no one’s fault but mine to leave things in the dark.
I’m always counting on people to be sensible enough to get out and leave, same goes to the less sensible or the kind-hearted ones who chose to overstay their visit.
And yet, this feels different. At the verge of giving up, but different nonetheless.
Maybe it’s the vision of masculinity or the constant reminiscence of a better yesterday that kept this person going, where it’s okay to demand the third-best choice, where it’s totally fine to shrink the appetite to that of a mouse, just so the dinner table could make room for 2 more strangers when the time comes.
When it’s over, I’m sure to think about this a lot. Of how sickly sensible and romantically wrong people can become for someone else.
I think I might be in
love.