A fact is a fact, but is it ever really? Is there such a thing as a fact when nothing can be proven? Nothing is certain. Your very existence is not certain, much less your feelings or lack thereof for another possibly nonexistent human.
I wonder how long it will take. I used to wonder how long it would take for me to stop caring, but now I wonder when you will realize that you’re wrong, and that we’re soul mates. If I were two years older, we would both be so happy. You said it yourself.
Instead, you are relatively content and I’m feeling absolutely wretched. I’ve come to terms with your disability to be happy, but when will you grow out of that? Knowing my luck, it will be when we’re states apart, and there won’t be any hope.
But that’s not possible. You know how they say when you know, you know? I know. And I can’t stand the fact that you don’t. You say you don’t think the timing will ever be right for us, but it has to be. It just has to be, because I earnestly never want to live without you.