Then, There is You

I think this world is a chain of unrequited feelings — you like her, she likes someone else, he likes me and I like you.

YOU
The thing about you is, you give every writer’s favourite thing: a blank space, a white blank page. I could fill in with unicorns and rainbow, double rum and coke, I could paint it red.

But another thing about blank space is that it can be immensely intimidating. The complete opposite of letting your creativity shape the love you would like to have. You scare me, not in a ghostly way, but in a everything-is-temporary-and-you-have-to-make-it-count. How mortal everything is. That I have to make the greatest out of the time I have.

You make memories appear like swords, the pointy end will bleed you to death. It kills you. It has the power to kill. It could kill you. 

You make glitter looks like gold. But do you know when I know (I’m sure)? When I no longer fear death when I’m with you. 

HER
The last time I heard about her was years ago. She embodied the ideal wife. You said she’s as calm as the deepest ocean, her manner, the way she dresses, how you would consider to marry her — which where I’d like you to stop.

HIM
He likes me, he said it’s all in, liking me is like a suicide mission but he’ll take it. He looks up to me — I’m his Margo. His friends look up to him for his loyalty and bravery, sometimes foolish. Most girls adore him for his gentleness and sweetness. He makes me feel I’m stupid for thinking twice.

But then, there is you.