‘Adult’ life has changed my bedtime from 2 AM to 11 PM — meaning it’s already past my bedtime assuming I plan to get the usual five hours of sleep. The thing is, I have to write now. The inspiration doesn’t come all the time nowadays nor does it last this long.
I just wanted to say this:
Maybe if we met at a different time, in a different universe, I would have fallen in love with you. It’s that easy, but given our circumstances now, it’s downright impossible.
I am guarded. I have been getting really good at discerning admiration from love, politeness from flirtation. I no longer assume or overthink that it gets to the point I’m so oblivious already. I’m just trying to get my head straight and not let emotions get in the way. It’s been like that for the past year. But you, you’re different.
Love — or anything close (whatever it is guys claim) — makes me feel cold and detached. But you make me feel warm. That awful warmth that I cannot make any sense of. I do not understand why I go all soft inside when I see you.
All I know is that this isn’t going anywhere.
Because it’s impossible.
And because I choose to not make it possible.