sig·nif·i·cance

Journal

How ironic is it, that as soon as I stopped putting effort into this, the world started showering with me with beautiful situations that I never could have imagined would have happened.

I just have to keep myself in reality check – all of it means nothing.

Right?

I might have run into your dad today, but it’s coincidence. As soon as I’m not in love, that’s what I would say. Strict fact, no imagination.

But I am in love – so the fact that I saw your dad makes everything feel so significant.

It was funny, really – he had accidentally driven on a curb when I was walking by – we laughed about it. Your dad is just as awkward as you.

It’s endearing.

I was listening to the same song that I was yesterday, when I glanced up and saw you.

I know it all means nothing, but I want it to.

That’s the worst part about being atheist and cynical – everything has lost its magic.

But everything becomes real. No more fairytales or flattery – it’s solid fact.

But love isn’t a solid fact. It’s hormones that makes us act all silly.

I know one day you’ll walk through these doors and have a girl by your side and I’m going to be devastated. Angry. I won’t talk to you and I’ll cry. But you’re not mine and never were.

All of this will go away.

I’m moving, but I’m ignoring that.

I’m probably still going to love you when I’m gone.

I can’t ignore that I have actually just run into you everywhere, that every time I just happened to be thinking about you, you literally pop up around the corner in the grocery store or waving at me from a car or biking on the road.

I’m looking for significance where it’s not. Perhaps it becomes significant when I want it to be.

Like the way that your eyes speak when I look into them.

The fact is that I love you and I hate that.

I want to be in control and I cannot control this.

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