[F4A] Let me go. [SCRIPT Fill] [Confessional style] [Bittersweet] [burn for you] [somewhat hopeful] [semi l-bombs] [comparing you to a supe

Transcript

I could have fallen in love with you. I could have loved you and been so happy about it. And I could have adored you.

For every part of you. Everything you used to be. Everything you are trying to get over.

Everything you will one day be. And yet, you don't want me. Not in the way that I want you.

I've realised that I'm really good at being second option. I mean, love is such a fickle thing, don't you think? We all imagine love as this fairy tale.

We go to a romance novel to find love. To find a sense of something, anything. We search endless books to feel validated.

To feel seen and heard. That is what we strive towards when we think of love. You think of the need, the fire.

The all consuming passion. You think of the lit candles while bathing together. The dim lights when you kiss down on their neck.

The way our bodies would fit together like a puzzle piece. But the reality, is that isn't love. That's lust.

I don't want you for one sole purpose. And I might not be able to explain it fully. I might not have the perfect words for it, but when I think of you, I think of all the sadness in your eyes.

Eyes that have seen too much. Eyes that are tired. Eyes that have frowned too many times to count.

Eyes that look begging to be kissed. I see someone who so desperately wants to be seen, but is so terrified of someone putting on their glasses. That is all humans are, you know.

Silly animals who need someone to hold their hand through their stupid fucking life. Or maybe, maybe that is what I want. Maybe people aren't that complicated.

Maybe I am over-complicating them. Maybe I just wish that there was someone who would want that too. Someone who, when they looked at me, their smile would reach their eyes.

When they thought of me, they would think of all the bad things in me and adore me anyway. To find someone who wants me, from my mind to even the dark little corners of it. I guess, a foolish part of me wanted that to be you.

Which, in reality, I know. I know how mindless that is. Maybe I am just a hopeless romantic.

The perks of reading too much as a child. Growing up reading pages of people's souls. The debilitating desire for something that might not even be real.

And it's still a real life. How I am always so full of pretty words. But as soon as I think of you, I seem to forget every single word I have ever known.

I forget how to string a sentence together. I remember writing, when I think of love, I don't think at all. Because when love is with me, you are too.

Was I right? Because, I don't know if I want to be. If it feels like this.

I don't want the piss in my stomach. The screw in your attention. Feeling like I need it to survive.

It's worrying. I don't feel like myself when you play on my thoughts. Every waking minute, rolling over to my phone, as if you are bothered to message me back.

Or if the messages won't get through. Even worth making. Worth typing.

Is my mood actually so dependent on that? How fucking stupid could I be? The spiral of jealousy in my gut when I hear about you and someone else.

Is it selfish of me? It feels self-serving. I have never known anyone like you.

Or at least, I don't think I have. I have such a terrible habit of overcomplicating people. But you? I don't think I need to overcomplicate you.

I think you are just as confused as I am. Maybe I'm not making sense. I'm sure half the time I don't make sense anyway.

I'm not this cool, collected person. I'm overzealous. I'm emotional.

I'm angry. I'm tired. I'm exhausted.

I'm red. The brightest garlic. The deepest carmine.

A dangerous crimson. A spill of Bordeaux. If we were colours, would ours ever have matched? Would we have made a beautiful shade of crimson? A sky blue? A royal purple? A moss green? Or would we have mixed together and made a terribly sullen grey? I had always hoped that we would make a beautiful rainbow.

But perhaps we would have made a mess of the palette instead. And attempt to make something beautiful. So please tell me.

Do I let you go? Or do I hold on tighter? Do I give you all I am? Or do I hide behind the walls that have protected me for so long? Because just like the sun and the stars, I would burn.

I will continue to burn long after I am gone. Do I set myself on fire for you? Let myself burn and burn until I burn out? Until I am only a flicker of flame? A breath of match? Until I collapse into supernova? And dance into the black hole? I would burn into the last second of this universe.

And the next if I have to. I would burn through all time and space. My fire would travel galaxies.

And billions of light years. I would burn until I reach the eye of you as a child. Reminding you to change the world.

I would burn for as long as I could bear it. And after that I would burn until I cannot. I will burn until my last breath and more.

I will burn and burn and burn until I reach you. If you can't be the light. If you can't sit in the heat.

I will let you go. I will let you wander the stars alone. Find your own moon.

Create your own supernova. But you have to tell me. Tell me to let you go.

Must I let you go? Must I let you go? I need you to tell me.

I need this longing to finally dissipate. Let me go.