Because I dreamt of him all night this week, I embraced indulging within a solitary and whimsical cloud of nostalgia all weekend. Exigently grasping those euphoric memories like it was the very air I breathed. Citing wasted pictures of him and I while also constructing upon unfamiliar territory. I found myself drowning in the extraordinary need to just have him beside me since his imaginary presence no longer deliciously satisfied. His persisting ethereal occupancy holding court in my mind no longer sating those desperate aches for his skin atop mine. I yearn to renew and create countless chapters in the tale that is us and am hopeful our paths with coincidentally cross anon. But then again, do I really? Could I handle some hard truths?
Do I want to know if he’d recognise me? Or would he stroll past, blissfully unaware of my meager existence? Completely oblivious to the doe eyed girl waiting expectantly, heart fracturing as he unintentionally strides onwards, confirming my dreaded fear that I am just another irrelevant blimp on his Facebook feed. And if he did meet my eager eyes with acknowledgement, do I want to know if he’d yearn to see more of me? Would he still look at me in that way? Do I want to know if this feeling continues to flow both ways? Or is it best to remain in that guarded and secured ignorant bliss?