He chased me for two years.
He said he would always be there.
He said the day I say yes will
be the best day of his life.
But when I ultimately said yes
and the chase was over
he eventually told no
and taught me that some
people merely care about
winning the chase
even if it means
losing the person.
He was calm and sweet.
He was everything I’ve ever wanted.
Our friends told us we should date.
His friends told him I’m the one.
My friends told me never to let him go.
So I fell in love with our story.
I started writing down all the fantasies
I wanted to live with him.
But here’s the thing about fiction,
no matter how much you believe in it —
It doesn’t be transformed into reality.
So the story remained beautiful on paper
but turned ugly in real life.
He was fun and charming.
A breath of fresh air.
He took me dancing because
I loved to dance.
He liked my art because
he was an aspiring artist.
We shared our secrets.
We talked about the universe.
We believed in things like the stars
and the moon and the signs.
But we forgot to look at the
of how much alike we both were.
How much we both needed healing
and how self-destructive we were
that we objective up destroying each other.
He was wise and reliable.
He was stable.
A term I never knew.
I wanted stability.
I wanted to find a home.
I was tired of running.
I was tired of.
I was tired of messing up.
I wanted to make things right.
His life was pretty normal.
His mothers were still together
and very much in love.
Something I’ve never lived.
I wanted to be in his life
because it mirrored the one
I always wanted to live.
But a broken home and
a stable one will always.
He doesn’t know how to fix
broken things and I don’t know
how to love someone whole.
He was powerful and confident.
He knew how to silence everyone.
He knew how to make people listen to him.
He wasn’t afraid of speaking up.
He wasn’t afraid of his own voice.
I looked up to him.
He was my mentor.
He taught me how to love myself.
Being around him attained me want to
dream bigger and make a difference.
But here’s the thing about men who
love themselves too much.
They don’t have enough love left
to give anyone else.
They’ll leave the moment you start
getting more attention.
They’ll leave the moment you treat them
the style they’ve always treated you.
And then there’s him.
Beautiful in every way.
Pure and kind.
Soft but strong.
Broken yet fierce.
Someone I could love
but I’m scared of rejection.
And it builds me so angry
that there’s a long listing before him.
A listing of everything that went wrong.
A list of heartbreaking stories.
A list of why I’m afraid to
A listing of sons who ruined me for him.
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