maybe you weren't even real. maybe i made you up in my dreams. or even worse, my nightmares. maybe you don't exist. maybe you were an illusion. some sort of magic trick i tricked myself into tricking. maybe i was hypnotized by your eyes and everything after that was made up. maybe i've never even seen your face. maybe i've only seen pictures. maybe i saw and felt your perfection through a picture. maybe your pictures don't exist. maybe i haven't even heard your voice. or smelled your scent and hair. maybe whose hand i held wasn't yours. maybe i didn't even hold anyone's hand.
what if you really don't exist? what happens? if you don't exist, if it wasn't your love i felt, your hand i held, your embrace i cherished, if it wasn't your scent and hair i smelled, if it wasn't your big, alluring, brown, hypnotizing eyes that captivated me, then why do i feel the way i do?
i hope you do exist. i hope you weren't just a fragment of this fucked up imagination that lacks imagination. i hope that when you're in my dreams it's because you have been in my prescence and my dreams are just living what happened and what my heart wants to happen. what could have happened and what didn't. just living the little fact that i am madly in love with you and how terribly i miss you. all of you. all that is you. all that is Paige. even in my dreams i'm in love with you and even in my dreams i hurt.
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