On the 20th, I had a dream. In it, you'd called me and told me that you had feelings for me, but that you couldn't confess earlier because you were still struggling with everything else.
We had a long talk, and we agreed to meet up the following day.
And I woke up delirious, thinking that everything I'd dreamt about had actually happened. All the serotonin turned to ash within a few minutes, as I opened my WhatsApp and saw no received calls in my call log nor any messages from you.
In my delirious state, I'd sent you a message.
“Ik ben zo blij, marmotje. Ik ben zo blij.”
But when I came to the realization that everything had happened in my own fucking mind, I deleted the message, and spent the next hour or two wishing the world to end.
I don't know when I fell asleep, but when I woke up I saw a missed call, a WhatsApp message and a text message from you.
The heart can't do anything but flutter at the thought that maybe, just maybe you I hadn't imagined my dream.
But when I saw the message, I knew it all to be a lie.
The dreams fade, but the feelings remain.
Fuck feelings.