I dreamt about you last night. Vividly.
It fascinates me how our subconscious works. How out of all the people in my memories, you’re the one my subconscious chose last night. It wasn’t really you though. It was the idea of you, of who I thought you could be, wrapped up in your beautiful body. It was the you that could’ve been with me, for real. It was the you I could’ve loved.
You were the kind of person all the girls fantasized about. The kind that could give you the tingles in places that you didn’t know existed. The kind that made you feel like you were flying.
I often think about what kind of person you are now. I then find myself wondering if you ever found someone to love. I wonder if she makes you coffee late at night when you’re writing, if she holds you when you’re upset or if she can tell what mood you’re in just by looking into your eyes. I wonder if she makes you fly.
I would never trade what I have now for anything in the world. I would never go back to you if you begged. You were everything I wanted, but nothing that I needed. We could never have worked, we were too much alike. I wasn’t meant to take care of someone, to heal the wounded. (Although it’s funny that now that very thing is what I do for a living) I was meant for someone to understand the fine line and balance of knowing when I need to be taken care of and when I need to do it on my own. I was meant for someone who isn’t like me, and as frustrating as that can be, it brings a wonderful harmony to the relationship. I could never imagine being married to myself.
So I do still think about you. I apparently still dream about you. But I don’t miss you.
You were everything I wanted, but nothing that I needed.