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.