Hold your breath.

The chronology is crystal clear. The question is what sticks? The pattern or the hope? The self-destruction or the romantic optimism? Dare I dream? Dare I dream with you? I don't think I'm the one - for you, or for anyone. I may be beautiful, as you so often remind me. But these reminders will run out and all I'll remember is the hollowness and the void that your absence will leave in its wake. Why? Why am I so scared? I know what I feel and I know it is pure. What is this deep need for it to last and this unwavering doubt that it won't? 

People matter to me most and people screw me over the most - that much is certain. I allow for it is also evident. Is it because I don't believe I deserve love? Is it because I turn everything I touch to anti-gold? Is there no greater pattern and just a series of unfortunate coincidences? I'm terrified to find out the answer to this. Horrified out of my mind to actually come to know that I'm but an option, nothing extraordinary, nothing exclusive. Just an everyday mundane that makes those around her happy as per their convenience and then is easily forgotten.

Will you leave? Will you stay? Will I be forced to reevaluate myself through my life choices and my life experiences? Will the cynic win or the romantic? Is there any winning at all in a life and world as twisted as the one we currently live in? 

What am I doing here? I don't belong here.