Arete (arete) wrote,
Arete
arete

This is real.

I don't know him.

I don't know if I'll ever know him.

I've dreamed of him since I stopped trusting my parents.

Arms I could rest in, a heart I could trust in, a mind I could revel in communicating with, and a soul that would fit with mine.

I no longer care if 'he' turns out to be a she. It doesn't matter.

All he/she has to do is love me--not despite of who I am, but because it's just me. And the me that I will become, that changes every second that I live.

'Cause love is supposed to survive change.

I just don't know if I can survive the changes until then.
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