The possibility of losing you is immense and I am terrified to say so. I have known so well that you are one of those who does not mind or does not even give a second thought about gaining one, and I for one would like to say that forever is not something I’m leaning towards. Doesn’t the word forever scare you? Can’t you feel the commitment behind it, the loyalty, the trust, the holding onto? You lose yourself in the concept of forever, you are blind to the fact that everything is finite.
And yet I waste my time investing myself in thoughts of you and only you: the smell of your cologne, the softness of your hands, and the way you smile. I cannot help but mention all these in detail, always because I only hold onto a memory of you every time I say goodbye. How can I tell you this is forever if when I turn my back, I don’t see you there?
I hold onto you so tightly, like a sheet I cling to for safety for fear of looking down and falling into oblivion: a reality of not knowing you, a reality of feeling nothing for you. That would have been better to tell you the truth but I would rather feel the pain of holding onto a memory of you than losing the entirety you call you completely.
I hold onto you because you are familiar, because you’ve got a face to call home. Forever isn’t for me because we weren’t meant to last. Never set in stone what we have, I tell myself. Knowing you, I could hold on and you let go right away, knowing that you had said goodbye first and I fall to the ground, knowing that time had once again pried away from my persistent fingers.