Is that how it works?

You find and meet someone whom you deeply connected with. Someone who made you the happiest during some of your darkest hours. Someone who saw your flaws and turned them beautiful. You meet someone, and that person becomes your first and last thoughts of the day. That person becomes one of the reasons why you’re not afraid of thunderstorms and oceans. That person becomes a part of your routine: the 3am thought, the 6am cup of drink, the 10am poem, the 1pm sunshine, the 3pm music, the 6pm sunset, the 10pm moon, and the midnight wish. You meet someone who cherished talking to you and making you feel special. You meet someone who gave you butterflies unlike before and showed you a side of the world that’s beautiful.

Then you lose that person. That deep connection is cut short. Your darkest hours turned darker, even though you didn’t think it was possible. The beauty in your flaws fades away, and the glaring truth about them resurfaces. How foolish was it of you to think he saw their real beauty. That person is still your first and last thoughts of the day, but the thoughts taste bitter and melancholic now. They’re no longer beautiful. That person is still a part of your routine: the 3am tears, the 6am empty cup, the 10am poem, the 1pm storm, the 3pm silence, the 6pm shadows, the 10pm darkness, and the midnight sadness. You realize how insignificant you are. You also realize that those aren’t butterflies in your stomach anymore. Rather, they’re thunderstorms. You have just drowned yourself in his world.

I wish this wasn’t about you, but I’ll be kidding myself.