An Excerpt From a Book I'll Never Write: I'm Not Capable of Loving Something that is not Real

I never loved you; I don't think I ever could. But that doesn't stop me from loving Saturday nights spent swimming in your sheets with the music of the rain beating on your window to set the mood. I still love the way you hold me close when we dance alone around your kitchen counter, twirling me gently so I won't bump into the pile of dirty dishes you refuse to let me wash. I still crave the look you give me to the sound of our beers clinking together, you smile because you know it's my favorite brand, I smile because your smile reminds me of the sun.  It's the midnight kisses down my neck, the way you play your ukulele like an electric guitar, the music seeping from your soul, notes out of tune, messing up the lyrics, as I close my eyes and doze off into a daydream. 

I know my hands weren't meant to hold your heart, but I wonder why they almost fit perfectly into yours. You're like a character in one of my books; I try to erase your flaws, but I know this isn't real. It baffles me how I don't get mad when you fuck up my order at Starbucks, charging me for more than you should, making my drink extra sweet, to taste like your lips. I still come back to waste my money on overpriced coffee, to waste my time on meaningless conversations about how we want to be endless in an ending world. I swallow your empty compliments that leave my throat burning and I ask myself if I'd rather drown myself in a sea of you or vodka. Regret hasn't visited yet, I don't think of him when I'm in your arms. Is there something wrong with me?

I don't love you, and I don't think I ever will, but I love the way you act like yourself when you're with me, and we laugh at the same things. I love how you try to act smarter than me, how you shut me up with kisses and for just a moment, you make me feel like I'm falling; but I know it's all an illusion. You give me a natural high, nothing like the smoke that fills my eyes, a new drug pulsing through my veins, a false dimension, my technicolor daydream,  I try to ignore reality, the truth that this isn't real. Because you're my new addiction and I'll eventually knock you out like I've done with so many before. 

-V.L.