Emotional Whims On Late Nights

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We felt so close yet I spread us so far apart and now there's such a small chance of us rejoining once again that I doubt it will ever happen. But maybe one day we'll meet and see each other, face to face, eye to eye, and our separate lives can once again link together and connect. Maybe one day. But until then I'll be reaching for you into the abyss and hoping that you'll catch me. That you'll grab onto my hand before we both fall to a point of no return. At that moment we would never reunite. We would never truly know. We both would forever wonder what was truly thought of us by the other. Those unspoken words, those unfulfilled actions, those unshared dreams will forever circle around in our minds but maybe we can be saved from this. Maybe, possibly, hopefully, we can be saved from this eternity of wondering, of never really knowing. Of wishing what we felt was felt for us, too. But if only our paths would cross again. If only our lives would crash again. If only we could meet again I know that this time we would and could make it. You and I both know that we feel the same way but why can't we say it, why can't we express it, why can't we just tell each other what's going on, I will forever wonder. Your hand fit with mine and it was perfect, it was perfect. I destroyed our moments, I destroyed our memories, I destroyed our dreams. I destroyed us. A simple yet impactful mistake. I dreamt terrible dreams of you calling me by my name, my real one, as if the nickname you had created for me didn't exist. I dreamt you'd slipped out of my hands just as easily as you had slipped into them and it was all my fault, it was all my fault. But maybe, maybe we could fix it all. Maybe all of this hasn't been for naught, maybe we can turn back the hands of time and become who we once were. But maybe we can't. Maybe you've recovered. Maybe you've moved on. Maybe when I made the terrible mistake of linking myself to another you repaired yourself and did the same. But it wasn't a mistake. You meant to do it because you loved her and I sadly couldn't be her but it's fine because as long as you are happy I am fine. This is all playing out as a dramatic speech, a Shakespearean reading with long pauses and quickened breaths in my mind. But to you, to others to everyone, this I just an emotional girl rambling on about a guy. A guy she thought she loved. That she might have. That she probably still does. A guy she hopes at least didn't hate her before. He could hate her now. Now she would be fine. Now she would understand. Now it's okay. She made him unhappy and he found his happiness. That's all she wants. That's all this poor girl awake at 2am every night with thoughts swirling around her head and feelings swirling around in her heart, destined to feel cliché and average and plastic for these things, really wants. At the end of every day, I only want you to be happy, with or without me.