the idea of me 

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? 

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