you’re not in love with me. you’re in love with the idea of me.
people are just a manifestation of ideas. and i am fortunate enough to be one of yours.
i saw you and i fell in love with your eyes– and then later for who you are. you saw me and i still fail to fathom what it is you see.
i hide behind walls i’ve built. you only see fragments of me, even when i let you see a lot more than anyone else.
fear has kept it that way. my fear that when i show you who i really am, you’ll finally see. you’ll finally see the dwelling darkness inside.
if you dip your pretty toes in a litle deeper than the surface, the cold will be numbing. that is something i would never wish upon anyone, let alone you.
you have no clue as to who i really am. my bad habits, my tantrums, my depressive tendencies. you are not familiar with my monsters. they would scare you away.
you haven’t seen me at my worst. i haven’t let you. you don’t know how unhappy i really am. how needy i can be.
i put on a tough front, a smiling face. a mask so the world would leave me alone.
maybe i’m being selfish. you shouldn’t be kept in ignorance, even when it is sometimes bliss. maybe i should just let you see me, for who i really am.
maybe i should trust your love for me. maybe you do see through me. maybe you know what you’re walking into. maybe.
i doubt it though. you’re only in love with the idea of me. and that’s like not loving me at all.
is it time to let you go? am i fermenting something toxic?
i’m opening my doors. my vulnerabilies are laid out in the open. it’s your call. if you plunge deep within me, would you stay despite it all?