Standing in the centre of the field, I wish I could walk up and talk to you. To listen as I tell you about life and ask you about the things you like. To listen as you say something interesting, like how you sing when you are happy or draw on paper when you are sad. I would like that very much.

Standing in the centre of the field, I watch. You aren’t talking to me, you are speaking to somebody else. Touching and smiling. I don’t exist to you. It’s all in my head. Thoughts of you 24/7. Before I sleep at night. When I wake up in the morning.

And that’s what is so unfair. I’ve got nothing else on my mind. How come I have to be the one sitting and analysing every microscopic detail of you? And there you are, totally oblivious to my existence . You have the liberty of having other things on your mind.

Something is happening. My world is turning. I see you coming. Through the crowd. My heart is beating fast as I think to myself, this is it, this is the moment I have been hoping for. But you are not coming to me. You are going to someone else. And as I feel your shirt brush against my skin as you pass by me, all I want in that moment is you.

So assuming,
Assuming I had the chance to meet you. That would be the end. The end of life for me. The end of fantasies and dreams. You are out of my head. You are now unfictional where you are.

You might disappoint me. You might snort or do something disgusting. You might say all the wrong things. However, you might be perfect. Better than the fantasy I created. The real you is amazing, mindblowing. I fall helplessly and blame it all on myself. That strong attraction becomes ten times stronger.

But no, the fantasy has to be maintained. Reality will ruin everything. I would rather have you in my mind whether perfect or not, however things will end, I will be able to handle it just as long as it’s in my mind. It keeps me going. I need it just to get through the day. It’s just like an obessession and if I make it real, it won’t be the same. It won’t be mine anymore.

So, I will keep my cool and look away from you, as I feel your shirt brush against my skin as you pass by me. I will walk away from that centre and not linger because in reality I want you but only that I am programmed to never admit it.


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