Author: Olivia Harper
Date: April 26, 2025
What is it about you that keeps occupying my thoughts? It’s almost maddening, the way your presence lingers in my mind long after we’ve parted ways. I don’t even know if you realize how much you’ve left an imprint on me, how much of you has found a place within the corners of my mind. Maybe it’s because I can’t have you that it all feels so heightened, so charged with a sense of something forbidden, something unspoken. The allure of the impossible is powerful, isn’t it?
Maybe it’s the way you see the world, through eyes that seem so much more innocent and full of wonder than anyone else’s. There’s something about your child-like curiosity that makes me want to abandon everything I thought I knew and just dance, laugh, and live like the world is a playground. It’s like you’ve unlocked a part of me that I didn’t even know existed—one that wants to break free, to be more spontaneous, more… alive.
Then again, perhaps it’s your skepticism that draws me in—your almost alien-like approach to life, the way you question the smallest details with such intensity. It’s as if you’re constantly trying to deconstruct everything around you, peeling back layers of the mundane to uncover deeper truths. I find that fascinating, and it makes me want to explore this world in the same way you do—looking for meaning in the spaces where others don’t bother to look.
But maybe it’s not just those things. Maybe it’s just you. Just the version of you that I’ve come to know, shaped by all the people, places, and experiences that have made you who you are. I’ve never seen someone quite like you before. You’re not a mosaic of your past; you’re a living, breathing masterpiece, constantly evolving and yet somehow, always familiar.
It’s strange, isn’t it? The way something so confusing can feel like such a strange joy. It doesn’t make sense, yet there’s a beauty in it. There’s a certain sadness, too, in knowing that this feeling is fleeting, that it exists only in the quiet space between reality and desire. But even with all the confusion, the longing, and the impossibility of it all, I wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything.
It’s like holding something precious, something delicate, that you know you can never keep—yet you treasure it all the same. And somehow, that’s enough. The joy isn’t in the outcome or the resolution, but in the feeling itself—the feeling of having wanted something, even if only for a moment, that makes you feel alive.