I wish you the best, I guess

The rain falls as I think of you.  I tap my foot impatiently on the floor as I fidget in my seat, begging my head to think of something new.  Maybe something along the lines of moving on, but why is it so hard to let you go? Why is it hard to let go of the current, the old?

I give myself an excuse to give us until forever to realize how much we both mean to each other and while I revel in the euphoric tones of that feeling, the very initial feeling of long-lasting eternity, the high melts away quickly.  How can I even see us in forever when the feeling itself dissipates even faster than the word that describes it? Why is it so easy for us (in general) to have a definite future formed? I’m not saying that mine’s looking so well either.  It’s quite hazy, actually.

I only spell everything out in dreams, in things that have yet to happen or hope to have yet to happen.  I see you as only a dream and it scares me to let you go just like that.  Why? Because dreams are only meant to tamper with reality, to temper the slight yet sure realizations that reality just won’t push into that direction, and so God help me.

I was always dreaming of something concrete, of something sure.

Because as much as I hate knowing more, knowing less terrifies me more.

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