I don’t believe in fairy tales. I never did, not even as a child. The story of Santa Claus never made sense to me, though I tried to believe in it—falsely, just to fit in. I don’t like when people try to sugarcoat my reality, telling me that everything will be fine. How do they know that? Who gave them the right to make such promises? They don’t know anything. Just like I don’t.
You don’t know what it’s like to love someone you can’t have. When the love you feel is forbidden, and everyone around you keeps insisting you’re making a mistake. But they have no idea how deep that love runs.
You don’t understand… What it’s like to look at him and feel yourself crumble inside, overwhelmed by love. You know you can’t be his, even though, in every way that matters, you already are. Soul, body, heart. You watch him laugh, searching the room for the woman who he’s smiling at. You despise her already, jealousy twisting inside you. You want to be her—good enough, perfect enough for him to love openly. But then, in the next moment, you realize he’s doing this for you, to keep you safe. To hide his love for you.
He’s protecting you. He shields you from the dangers he faces daily, from the days when he fights just to stay alive.
He doesn’t want you to be there when the police burst in, smashing through the door, searching for anything they can use against him. He doesn’t want you to wake up, terrified, to the sound of chaos. He doesn’t want you to cry or worry about whether he’ll return alive. He keeps the darkness of his world from you, not telling you where he’s going so you won’t be unhappy. You know, though. You always know. And you know that your worlds are different. That a life together makes no sense.
Yet you still believe that one day, everything will be okay. Because you know he’s a good man. He can’t be bad, not when he’s never shown you anything but love. His harsh, guarded love is worth more than all the tender affections offered to you every day. His embrace is stronger than any you’ve ever known.
I can’t live without him… It’s getting harder every day. The hardest part is stepping back, letting him go when I want to hold him tight and never let go. How many more impossible loves until the one that’s meant to be? Isn’t “I love you” supposed to be enough?