0251 AM, Brown Couch

I know I should allow myself to feel this way and enjoy these silly moments of meaningless and coincidental encounters, but I can’t. Because I deserve the real thing, not this made up false reality in my head. Circumstance, fate, coincidence, or whatever. Stop taking advantage of my vulnerability. Or maybe I should address myself and slap my face with the truth that it’s only me, overthinking. But I can’t help it, and no one can blame me. This thing has slowly become an abstract idea, that a little spark of possibility of it for me is like rain in a dry, desolated land.

But if this isn’t going to be real, just please, take it all away.

Even just writing this post made me feel pathetic. See? See what this is doing to me?