It’s the truth.
In my fantasy of you, you’re different.
In my fantasy of you, you care about me more than I care about you. Our conversations are always enigmatic, and we never run out of things to say. I would make you laugh – all the time, and you’d do the same for me.
In my fantasy of you, you just can’t get enough, you always want to be around, you want to know everything about everything. We would be an inseparable force, with our inside jokes. No one would be able to get through our fortress.
And I? I can read you, like an open book. I would understand every thought, every nuance, every expression, because in my fantasy of us we just get each other. Every time. Always.
In my fantasy of you, you’re a fighter. You see our obstacles as exhilarating challenges that we’ll tell our grandkids someday. You run after me, because in your eyes, I’m your princess, and losing me would be devastating, because a love like this doesn’t come around often.
In my fantasy of you, every kiss and caress would cary a spark. Every time would be like the very first time. We would never get enough. Our fights would be resolved easily – through matches of laser tag in our beautiful house. You would never let me fall asleep hurt or upset with you. You would never toss around cruel words and try to hurt me.
We would cook together, and I would make you your favourites and you would surprise with toxically sweet romantic gestures.
You would encourage my dreams and I yours – because together we would achieve anything and everything. We would never feel insecure because the way we would feel about each other would reflect love of epic proportions.
I know it’s not fair for you to have all this on you. It’s not like you asked for this – but understand that I didn’t either.
In my fantasy I don’t give up. So I won’t. In my reality I’m not going to give up. I’m holding on to this, ok?
Because fantasy you is exquisite and worth it.
But in reality, you aren’t.
But you could be.
Sweet Dreams World.