wreck my sundays, love

maybe love is an x-file.

“fall in love with an old soul,” i read on an instagram reel. first i think of my beloved lover that lives rent-free in my mind and joins me in my bed every single night before i close my eyes and realise it was just a dream. but then it hits me. i always identify as an old soul. this is written about me.

i get caught up so many times in what i’m looking for and mirror my feelings and daydreams onto what other people would see from me. that i forget it’s me. all me. it’s how i see myself. i get so caught up sometimes that i’m so hard on myself (and oh yeah i truly do that) but apparently all these visions and love stories i picture myself having some rainy sunday in a house in tennessee are the love of mine.

there’s no logic in love. i tried and i was ready to grow in love with someone past fall. it felt good, fresh. i was so hopelessly in love with the cowboy that i had myself convinced that that love had no future, no sense, it was stupid of me to love someone so dearly, someone that lives so far and out of reach. i had made it up almost. the anticipation to grow in love with someone new seemed reasonable. like yes, this is how it’s actually meant to be. only to realise that this is what everyone tried to teach me. and how sorry i am for all of them. you should never need to grow in love with someone, fall for that dream and crash into someone you know immediately you wanna spend loads of time together.

would i have learnt how to grow in love with that person back a couple of months ago?