“God, I
fucking love that girl.”
That’s the phrase that I speak to myself every night right before going to sleep. At this point, I don’t even care that I sound like I’ve fallen in love. But the fact of the matter is that I haven’t. I think I haven’t anyway, but then, I might just prefer to think that way.
Now that I think about it, am I lying to myself? Am I trying to convince myself that I’m not in love when the truth is the complete opposite? Do I recognize this? Have I done this to myself before?
Ah, fuck it. I’ll think about it when I feel less light-headed.
I do dare say that I might genuinely be in love. For the first time ever, this might be more than a passing false impression. And the funniest thing about all of it? I don’t hate to admit it. Knowing how things have been going for the past two months, it’d feel wrong to disregard that possibility anyway.
That is, however, what it is for the time being - a possibility. I don’t know anything for certain yet.
Why am I trying to apply logic to what isn’t logical to begin with?
If it is love, then it is love. If not, that’s okay as well. Either way, I’m past the point of being afraid of the outcome. Whatever comes my way, I’ll accept it without complaint.