my life is an over-romanticized, touchy-feely, never-existent shoujo manga.
something in me is about to break, and i’m scared of the notion of ripping my chest apart just to find something in there exists. i’m scared, i’m scared. i grab my phone and dial your number in.
i want you to say, “is everything ok?” i want you to comfort me, to hold my arms out at length and tell me that you will be there for me. but of course you don’t. instead i lie,
“everything is ok”
and perhaps you’re fine with that.
;(things unsaid, and thoughts unthought
because my life is nothing i want it to be. because you are nothing i want you to be.
life doesn't work like this, i remind myself.
but your soft voice over the phone is a wonderful delusion.)