There is nothing  worse than  believing in a story.

When  you wake up from the illusion, reality strikes.

If  you  invent the story  yourself, it is even worse.

You  are stuck  wanting something non-existent, depositing your love in a memory, fighting  for somebody intangible.

Turned  into a Quijote  who looks for his  Dulcinea,  so that when you find her you will not see who you face.

I know that you will return and  it will happen.

I will fill a hole in your life but I will not be part  of it.

You will argue your position shaking the flag of freedom, and the only thing that you will do, will be to defend your ego, your life, what they will say about you, your lies… and that my love, will not be us; we will already have lost.