I keep telling myself that I’m just in love with the idea of having someone understand every part of you without even trying, that someone actually understands what is going on my my chaotic mind. I keep convincing myself that I should not be confused because we made it clear: friends should just stay friends. Maybe it’s because you were not just there for the 2am’s but for the 2pm’s too when the world is very much alive and the night demons have not peeped in. You were there on sober nights and on days I feel like I did not want to get up. You drank coffee with me on days I wanted to wake up from my nightmares and got drunk with me when I feel like this world was too much for my poor soul. You became my person – the one I could talk my fears and dreams with. The one I could entrust my life to. You saved me from the hell I was in, you saved me from toxicity. But I know that should just be it. I cannot misread your actions, not ever.
I guess, maybe, I’d like to be loved the way you love her. The intensity of lost love. The kind of love that thirsts for second chances and for blissful reunions. I long for that kind of love, the love that just does not go away just because things ended bad or because a long time has passed. I could see the way your eyes start to smile whenever you talk about her. I could feel the hell you were put through when you lost her. She was and she will always be your person. I was sure of that.