In the past, I have been willing to be patient. “Boys will be boys”, after all and love can be a justification for almost anything, if you want it to be. Another thing that can be a pretty good scapegoat is not wanting to be wrong, to be the asshole, the chump, whatever.
But, alright. Sometimes, we are the chump.
It is what it is.
And it’s beautiful in a way, because it’s such an universal human error.
What is this now? Is it the same expression of sentiment as before? Is it just a love letter from a girl, written in an idle moment, about the boy who stole her heart? Is it something else? It feels different, doesn’t it?
It’s difficult not to have expectations when it comes to the person you want. Our imaginations tend to get carried away in our idle moments, then— all of a sudden, you can’t help thinking maybe something… maybe.
I don’t know if we are to blame for the people we fall in love with, but it seems like it happens to us. It seems like we don’t have much to say on the matter. If everything has cosmic significance, what is it here? I am tired and a little overwrought, needing you to be the one to take the reigns for a while. I just need to be swept up, once in a while, if I’m not supposed to question my inexplicable, inherent trust for you. I need you to remind me if I’m not supposed to forget.