9.20.22 // The Idea of Me

The idea of me.
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You've fallen in love with the idea of me.
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A beautiful version of me, filled with light, love, and a future that fits in your world like the final piece of a puzzle.
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A projection so perfect that her insecurities and needs are so deeply unnoticed that they seem non-existent. However, even the idea of me has needs. They dance like the vapors coming off hot asphalt on a summer day, there if you squint, but perfectly ignorable if turned the other way. You are so good at turning the other way.
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The version of me that lives in your mind, is contrary to who I am out here in the real world, out here in my lightness and darkness, out here in my wholeness and truth.
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And no matter how much I try to speak up, to use my voice, to share who I really am, the projection of me will always win because she is perfect and I am just simply not. It's like I'm fighting myself and losing because who you've created is stronger and you want to love her, you don't want to love me because I'm complicated.
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I've never lied about who I was or where I am, but the idea of me has lied to you over and over again. She has hurt you because you believed her instead of listening to me, you believed your mind over my very real voice, you believed your dream instead of seeing me.
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But the worst part is that while you chose the pain of falling in love with the idea of me and chose to fall into despair because of your own disinterest in the truth, I didn't know or understand that the love you had was for the idea of me. I was blinded by your mind, your choices, and your illusion.
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There is something so unique in attempting to heal from the heartbreak of someone loving a version of you that never existed. It feels like the worst kind of heartbreak because no matter what I tell myself, there was nothing I could have done better because I will never be better than her because I never wanted to be her.