I’m Trying To Save Myself From Heartbreak

I feel as though there is a colossal weight on my chest. I feel as though I’m dying every time I draw a breath. It hurts and I don’t know what to do. I just want to love you, but I can’t.

You are an image that I’ve conjured up. I know that if I get to know you, that image will shatter and I might not love you. I’m scared of taking the chance, so I walk away.

I walk way from the chance of really getting to know you. I tell myself that it’s to save myself from the heartbreak, except this reasoning is insipid.

My longing for you, the concept of you, is shattering my heart. Every time I daydream about our future together, a fragment of my heart breaks off and pierces into my lung, making every breath painful.

The agonizing pain of the could have beens — the love that we may have developed, the family we could have raised, the dog that we could have adopted, the starter apartment that we both could have despised, the milestones that we could have celebrated.

Those thoughts are like weeds, they grow profusely and obstinately. They are wily and difficult to control. They occupy most of my once-fertile mind.

I remind myself that I should focus on the present. That I should force myself to stop thinking about you, but I always drift back to the concept of you.

I’ve always thought that I was somewhat logical. In school, I aced the erudite concepts of Einstein, the arcane thoughts of Kent, but when it comes to love, I’m flailing and nonplussed.

I know the right thing is to forget about you, but I can’t forget about you. I can’t forget the scent or the way you wrap your arms around me when we hug. I can’t let go, but at the same time I know it’s not real. I’m in love with the concept of loving you and not you.

And that hurts.