Sometimes when I’m sad, I think of you.
And when I’m lonely, I imagine you sitting down next to me.
When I get scared, I pretend you’re here protecting me.
But I’m tired.
I’m tired of pretending and living in a fairy tale.
I’m sick of wanting someone I know I can’t have.
Yet when I look up at the stars I ask God;
“Why is loving someone so difficult?”
And I swear I hear his voice answer back,
“Because love comes at a price. A price some people can’t afford, a commitment some can’t make, a heart you wish to not break, but true love does exist.”
So here I sit now sad, lonely, and scared—pretending you are here.
And I know this is a part of my fairy tale.
And I know it might not end anytime soon.
Maybe that’s a good thing—maybe I feel that just wishing you were here is the best thing to do.
For now until you are here