I keep holding on to that small little inch of hope that keeps me close to you. and sometimes I think its getting bigger. And I’m scared that its going to swallow me before you have a chance to come home.

and then I think

do I love you..or the idea of you? And what about me?
do you love me, or the idea of me? 

Do people fall in love with ideas?

Because

you’re very real to me. 

I love you too.

I know.

I hope you do.

You don’t.  

I’m okay. 

No you’re not.

I am. Sometimes.

I wish I could fix you. Fix them. Everyone else. Because I doubt its you that needs fixing. You’re fine on your own, that I’m sure of. It’s not you who’s falling apart. It’s everyone else taking pieces until there’s nothing left.

I think I bit off more than I can chew and you’re too far away for me to give it back.

I’m sorry.

I’m unraveling every single thread that’s ever held anything together just to lend them to you. You can have every piece. I’ll wrap it around your house so nothing can ever get in except me. 

I think we’ve dug ourselves a fine little hole to bury ourselves in

because there’s no way out now. 

And I’m not too sure what game we’re playing right now but I’m in love with it. 

I hope you win.