I know this won't work. It's as clear as daylight and just as brutal.
We're from different worlds, two separate realities stitched together by a thread so thin it feels like it'll snap at the slightest pull.
And I can see it. I can see how our worlds can't even collide by accident, how fate itself keeps us apart, laughing at the mere idea of us.
They say men have pride, or is it a strong ego? Maybe both. And knowing that, I tell myself not to waste my time or my fragile, battered feelings on something already doomed.
On something I can already see the end of before it even begins.
So, what am I doing now? What madness drives me to walk this path despite knowing it leads nowhere except to heartache and ruin?
Why do I find myself reaching for you, hoping for you, when I can already taste the bitterness of goodbye lingering on my tongue?
It's futile. It's worthless. Nothing but a page in a tragic story that will bleed pain and loss. And yet, I keep turning that page, as if the next line might hold something different, something beautiful.
So, if this is all destined to end in wreckage, then before it does, hold my hand. Hold it tight like it's the only thing keeping us from falling apart. Pull me close, keep me near, so I might not see a reason to leave your world.
Let me find a reason to stay, a reason to believe that maybe, just maybe, the pain that's meant to come won't be my home.
Instead, let me be the reason you come home. Let me be the solace you seek in a world that keeps tearing us apart.
I know this won't work. But somehow, knowing that makes me want to hold on even more.