Seeing her in her prime made me feel small. She’s beautiful and breathtaking, and I can see why it would be so hard to forget her. Knowing her before she blossomed would’ve been an honor—to know her deepest secrets, to understand her struggles—but not knowing her successes is brutal. I get it. I feel you. But my heart, my mind, my soul crave that connection too. You crave her, you miss her, and I can’t escape her. Her, her, her. Without her, there’s no us. Without her, I can’t fight for you, and I wouldn’t want to. I crave the destruction of my self-worth as I stay with you, watching you admire her from afar. You’re here with me, but you’re really here without her.

I don’t know why my heart loves you so much. I don’t know why my soul cries for you so much. I don’t know why my brain can’t erase you. It’s just my self-worth asking, aching for freedom. I know the love I’m capable of giving. I know the love I’m giving and not receiving. I know the love that will hurt me. I know the love I deserve but don’t crave. I wish it was me instead of her. I wish she’d disappear so I could finally have you to myself. But without her, there is no us. Without her, we can’t prove we belong together. Without her, there’s just no us.