I think we, or I know that I do, have a tendency to romanticise things…people. To see them greater than they are, to see them as the sun, to see them as the world, to let it completely and utterly consume me.Yet, he’s just a boy. It’s just a town. Or a day. Or a cafe. Or a weather type. It is not my ultimate dream if I have no idea of its reality. I cannot really love him if we’ve barely exchanged words in years. Hearts do not stay broken and time can heal. Soul mates aren’t only one love interest, but perhaps your best friends. There is not some huge romantic plan laid out for me, and destiny is whatever the heck I want it to be; I just need to make it happen.
He is not the sun. He is a boy.