My thoughts of you became constant reminders of how little you may have truly cared.
You gave false hope to the reality I created around you.
You allowed me to perceive you beneath a light that seemed generous, romantic, and thoughtful of others. Unfortunately, I fell through the webs of contradiction between the person I perceived and the person your actions eventually revealed.
Your temporary “yes” was only a notion; a glimpse into a waking state of romance that was never going to happen.
Maybe it was meant to comfort me in the moment, but in the end, that “yes” revealed itself as nothing more than a forgotten “no.”
I wish my feelings and my heart had never wrapped themselves around the idea that your intentions toward dating were aligned with mine. Unfortunately, just like the others, you became something like a passing cloud . A cloud beautiful enough to stop and admire, but never something that intended to stay.
I was a fool to believe I ever had a chance with you, or perhaps with any of the men before you, because our intentions toward love were always parallel. I kept waiting for the lines to intersect, only to realize they were never traveling toward the same destination at all.
I became baffled by how God continues to place men in my path who make me question not only my belief in love, but my belief that love could ever find me.
And somewhere within all of this, I realized something else:
My presence may have been appreciated, but my thoughts, my feelings, and the reality of my own life never seemed to hold the same importance as yours. Your thorny path through life always seemed to require understanding, patience, and consideration, while mine remained somewhere in the background.
And I cannot fathom entertaining, or envisioning a future with, someone who makes me feel that my inner world deserves less consideration than his own.
I wish my soul had never blossomed a rose filled with hope, curiosity, and dreams of what could have existed between us.
Because now that rose feels foolish for ever believing it could survive in soil where it was never meant to be planted.
I was a fool to believe your eyes could ever envision me through the lens I desperately wanted to be seen through.
I wanted you to look at me and see possibility of the following:
Romance.
Tenderness.
Someone worth choosing.
But I was wrong.
Your eyes were never looking through the same lens of romance.
And perhaps that is what hurts the most;
you were just like the others.
