Just another little something from the heart

I have been preparing for months exactly what I would say to you when I finally return. But it seems as though no matter how much I rehearse my words, or how carefully I prepare them, they will never suffice. I never said them when they were straight from the heart, and I refrained from speaking my mind the last time we spoke. So everything that I have been rehearsing is really everything that I have made up. I have made up situations and scenarios. The way the sun would be setting. The way the wind would toss my hair, or even make it flow lusciously. The way the birds would be chirping in the distance, calming me. The way the clouds would separate and the sun would gleam past them and directly on you, as I lay my eyes upon you again. But this is all fictional. Completely false, leaving behind traces of false feelings and emotions and expectations. Causing false hope, and a false definition of the unexplainable. Of what can not be expected. And for all I know you have changed. Maybe you trimmed your hair, or you no long smile so shyly. Maybe you do not wear plaid like you used to everyday, or even maybe you have gotten taller. All of these things are possible, which in all honestly brings me a great feeling of sadness. Please don't get me wrong; I am more than content with remembering you the way I do. But I become sad over the fact that my memories and images of you are merely who you used to be. Who you used to hate. Who you will never be again. The individual who caused me to believe that love exists and is the greatest thing in the world to be shared. The individual who no longer exists. And if the you that caused me to believe in such fantasies no longer exists, than maybe those feelings and turn of events never existed either. Maybe love truly doesn't even exist. Maybe that is why I haven't found it since I lost you. Maybe it got left behind, as the miles and the distance increased between us. Maybe I forgot it in a rest area restroom, and another hopeless individual became hopeful. But regardless, it is lost. I also can't help but wonder if I ever become found and rescued from the back of your mind. If I was even put there in the first place. Or even, how long it took me to get there. I wonder if you remember my smile, or how easily and how effortlessly you could make me laugh. Unfortunately, all of this wondering causes me to wonder if you simply remember me as a rag doll in your bed. One of many, or the one that never could compare to the previous one.