Before she left on her flight, I told her I may be in love.
“You think you are or…”It’s better not to think. She said something about this being the third time. She could have said anything other than that. But, no. I’d rather be a liar than lucky. She made me sound like I was always falling. Falling into major conditions. A sickness. Depositing sanity to accumulate change. I’m not very mathematic. It hasn’t been three times, I wanted to fire back, but nothing is worse than denial, doubt. She was envious, dropped the call, took to Chicago and three days after my confession sent me a text saying she had found her mate, her soul. Congratulations. I replied but she hasn’t seen this because they are talking, still. Sixteen days ago, I said I am in love. But I kept this to myself because I didn’t know what to do with it. I hadn’t decided. Once it’s said, more time is spent trying to understand what it means, if love is what you wanted when you stopped by his house that one day. The day I didn't think could make me feel differently at all.
“I feel I am.”
1 comment:
i'm in love with a girl. it's hard to tell though :(
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