I have actually fallen in love in the idea of falling.
When I thought of the butterflies coming out of my stomach, it give me chills and all the thrills I want when I fall in love.
When I see you walking, coming closer to where I am, you let the time stop for a moment. A slow motion has happened. Everything becomes blurry, and you are the only thing that my eyes can see.
When you go near me, you talk to me. You fill the air with the things I cannot understand. You gaze right into my eye, I melt under your power. I stiff right before it does happen, and then I’ll see that you smirk.
I have fallen in love in the idea of falling.
Whenever I hear your voice, it will be the music to my ears. Those laughter I cannot contain. You can make a good voice message and send it to me everyday.
Ah, I cannot hide it myself.
The love I want to be with. The love that will rejoice. The love that will open a door.
Yet, profoundly, I am not in love for real but a confusion I made myself.
You were not the love I am looking for. It was a mistake from the very start. The thought of you coming in and out, making my heart pound was a confusion.
I was in love with the idea.
The real love have yet to come.
Because every time ‘the love’ I thought from the very start was not a drug but poisonous.
The time I thought that stops whenever you walk was a mere creation by fools like me. There is no significant to this. You walk by feet. You held your head up high. It was not me you are looking.
It was not me after all.
The love I am looking for became a toxic idea of fantasy.