This feeling. I’m confused. You do this. You do that. You say things. And I don’t know if it’s real or not. Sometimes I almost believe it. But then I tell myself, it’s not real, not real, not real. And then I go back to my senses again.
I talk to you like all of those things never happened. I admit that I pretend everything’s okay, so clear, so trasparent. But please, you must admit there’s a fine gray line there. Or maybe it’s just one sided. Yeah, maybe it’s just one sided.
But can you blame to feel and think this way? Do you realize the things you’re doing and the effect it has on me?
Don’t worry. I expect nothing from you. I don’t expect this to be serious. And I tell myself once more and over and over again…NOT REAL.
I won’t admit it. I’ll never. But the years passed by so quickly and I still find myself thinking about you like I shouldn’t be. I was over you. So over you. But you visit my mind ocassionally. Feelings rekindle whenever you talk to me and talk about random madness that I don’t really remember much because It’s either I’m really nervous or just simply drunk.
You confuse me sometimes. I’m utterly convinced that we’re just nothing but friends and that’s instilled in my mind already even if my feelings do fluctuate. I know that we’ll be nothing more. But sometimes, you do things that messes all that up. You make me think that there could be something. You do that, even if you don’t intend to do it. I admit that I liked it when we lay on the floor. With your head on my lower leg. I wanted to brush my fingers through your hair but I didn’t because you might think of something. Those were some of the little things.
But then, I remind myself that all of those are nothing. They don’t have any meaning, no meaning at all. I can’t help wondering sometimes…what if. Then, I remind myself again that it’s impossible. You know, I still miss you. Even though I forget about you. It doesn’t make sense. But what does, when it comes to emotions.
I never got over you, I realized. The feelings still do exist. It’s one of the few constant things in my life, actually. I never stopped caring. Even if I don’t show it. Even if I act like I don’t. Even if I ignore you sometimes and pretend that you don’t exist.
I just let go of my fantasy that we could have something more special than friends have. That we could be together. I let go of that fantasy now. And it will stay forgotten. Because when one’s fantasies are gone, reality hits you like a ten-wheeler truck hits you. And it’s easier to recover that way.