I Told Myself You Were Perfect Instead Of Seeing The Truth

You’re not real, you never were. You’re human, but I dehumanized you when I wrote about you in a way only a hopeless romantic could.

I’ve read somewhere that it’s treacherous to think of a person as more than a person. It’s not flattery or proof of undying affection — it’s insulting. Why create an idea of who they are when they already have their own identity?

I forgot that when I met you. I saw through your flaws, I saw through every action and every word. I was delusional. Not in love.

My friends thought that I was in love. My parents asked me if I was in love. And I told myself I was in love. Hell, I believed it. I believed in everything I wrote about you. I believed that the universe mocked me by dangling you at an unreachable distance.

I was in the mind of a hopeless romantic, not in the mind of a realist.

I could say I didn’t know you very well, but then that would be a lie, because I do know you. I think I know you better than you know yourself, because I was able to see through you. I know that, deep inside, you’re afraid of leaving your comfort zone. I know the secrets you keep behind your cocky exterior.

I know you mean the opposite of half of the things you say. You say you don’t want any drama, but I see you purposely balling your hands into fists and raising your voice. You want an audience when you scream.

I know anger. I’ve seen true anger issues and you, my friend, shouldn’t act as if you have one. You live for the attention, despite saying you don’t. You try to act humble, but you broadcast to the world how great you are.

I should’ve paid more attention to your words instead of letting them slide. I should’ve said goodbye instead of making excuses for your actions — not only to myself, but to everyone around me.

No matter what happened, I justified your actions, because I wanted to sustain my glorified image of you. In my head, I accepted you for who you were — flaws and all.

But I was wrong. I didn’t accept you. I was ignorant of you. I mistook my idealized version of you for the real you.

You are human. You have flaws and you can be wrong. But if I keep defending your actions and making excuses for you in the name of romance, I am nothing more than a fool.