Were this a film, I would be stuck in love with somebody who is quite content to disregard what might be good for them and instead dance around other women who are not as compassionate as I. Maybe I have known that person long enough to know what happens next, that they will not be alone not considerate enough to so much as acknowledge me on valentines day.
Perhaps I have tried, I have tried quite hard to disregard my feelings and allow others to grow around them, but my experiences mean I know how such feelings end - or rather, do not end, but end up.
Who had been there, who is consistent through every new endeavour? Watching them pursue the loss of loneliness by refusing to acknowledge themself as a separate entity.
Were this a film, I would be very in love with somebody who will never regard me as anything above a poor fucktoy and a person to dramaticise events to.
But this is a much harsher reality than a ninety minute snapshot of a happier universe. And as this is not a film, I cannot dissolve and cry. I can choose to continue and allow myself to see flaws that make people less desirable.
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