you are all i see.
every step i take back, i look for you.
and yet once i do see you,
i look away
like i never spent all this time wishing it was you,
like i never made a home out of that hope.
i love you, i know.
but i love you too much to tell you.
too much to let it reach you.
because to be with you
would mean i have to be ready for an end,
and to start something knowing it can end
is something my heart still does not know how to survive.
i am in no position to be your dream.
and honestly,
i do not even wish that someone like me
would become your dream.
i only want the best for you,
even if that best was never meant to be me.
i kept telling myself i would get over it,
that one day this feeling would pass,
that one day i would look at you
and feel nothing that could ruin me.
but how do i tell myself that i am so stupidly in love with you
that all that you love
has somehow become what i love too?
and to love what you love
feels too much like loving you
endlessly.
hopelessly.
in every small and unbearable way.
i truly wish i was fortunate enough
to give you the best of me,
the kind of love that does not come with fear,
the kind that does not tremble before it even begins.
but right now
the best i can give you
is to leave your life
and suffer quietly in mine.
and still,
even after all that,
my foolish little dream remains the same:
to be noticed by you.
even if only once.
even if only as someone small,
someone forgettable,
someone you knew for a moment
and then carried only faintly.
even if you never love me,
i think i could live with that.
i think i could make peace with being nothing more
than a memory in your life.
because at least then
there would have been a point in time
where i existed somewhere in you.
and maybe that is enough for me—
to love you this much,
to lose you without ever having you,
and to still be grateful
that in some quiet corner of your life,
i was there.
Mar 29
Mar 29, 2026 at 4:14 PM UTC
you are all i see.
every step i take back, i look for you.
and yet once i do see you,
i look away
like i never spent all this time wishing it was you,
like i never made a home out of that hope.
i love you, i know.
but i love you too much to tell you.
too much to let it reach you.
because to be with you
would mean i have to be ready for an end,
and to start something knowing it can end
is something my heart still does not know how to survive.
i am in no position to be your dream.
and honestly,
i do not even wish that someone like me
would become your dream.
i only want the best for you,
even if that best was never meant to be me.
i kept telling myself i would get over it,
that one day this feeling would pass,
that one day i would look at you
and feel nothing that could ruin me.
but how do i tell myself that i am so stupidly in love with you
that all that you love
has somehow become what i love too?
and to love what you love
feels too much like loving you
endlessly.
hopelessly.
in every small and unbearable way.
i truly wish i was fortunate enough
to give you the best of me,
the kind of love that does not come with fear,
the kind that does not tremble before it even begins.
but right now
the best i can give you
is to leave your life
and suffer quietly in mine.
and still,
even after all that,
my foolish little dream remains the same:
to be noticed by you.
even if only once.
even if only as someone small,
someone forgettable,
someone you knew for a moment
and then carried only faintly.
even if you never love me,
i think i could live with that.
i think i could make peace with being nothing more
than a memory in your life.
because at least then
there would have been a point in time
where i existed somewhere in you.
and maybe that is enough for me—
to love you this much,
to lose you without ever having you,
and to still be grateful
that in some quiet corner of your life,
i was there.