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I’m a dreamer.
I believe in things that may or may not be possible.
I live a life waiting for romance. I live a life waiting for adventure and fulfilment of promises.
I’m a fool.

I wait for him. The man that took my heart when I was as young as seventeen. It feels like centuries. Has he ever even thought of me? While his name plays through the back of my mind at least twice a day.
I imagined a life with him. A love so passionate and safe.
I imagined a time where he would look into my eyes and tell me he loved me.

Now I go to sleep hoping I will see his face. Because in my dreams he cares. Only in my dreams can I connect with his soul, not like reality, where I face his dismissive ego.

So I’m stuck in a daydream, in a blurred haze, where all that matters is how long he will take.

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