silhouette

The problem is that I know I don’t actually want to talk to you. I want to talk to the idea of you.

You and I—we are nothing more than a body to one another. Whatever we’ve shared was only out of necessity, a fulfillment of a moment. The illusion I’ve created in my head is just that—an illusion.

I don’t act on this because, in reality, I know the truth. I don’t live in a fairy tale. I don’t believe we are anything more than what we are because, at the end of the day, I don’t actually want to talk to you. I want to talk to the idea of you.