Journal Entry **Last line of my hypothetical book** If I wrote a book about loving someone you can't have, I’d just write about my life… (kidding). No, but honestly, I really had to think about what the last line would be. Who would be the one, the untouchable, the unreachable? How would I feel? I do think there’s a difference between liking someone you _can’t_ have and liking someone who doesn’t like you _back_. Liking someone who doesn’t like you—it hurts, but at least you _know_. You can eventually come to terms with it, you can bandage the wound with truth. But when you don’t even know? When you’re never given the chance to know? That’s a different ache. It’s a constant swirl. Should you give up? Should you hold on to hope? Should you keep watching from a distance, until maybe—maybe—someone else steps into your view and shifts your mind enough to let go? Anyway, the point is: I couldn’t end it with a single sentence. Because that kind of story doesn’t really end. So instead, I wrote a slam poem to represent the weight of what a single line could never hold at the end of my hypothetical book. If i were to give one id probably write this "And though I never got to call you mine, I loved you in full anyway, quietly, completely...endlessly." [[SP Almost]] You were never mine. Not in the way lovers are, not in the way hands meet hands or hearts say yes out loud. You were an almost— a maybe— a song stuck on repeat in a language I never learned. And damn, do you know what it’s like to love someone like a secret mission? To root for their smile from the sidelines, cheering quietly while your own heart limps home from every “maybe someday”? I was a shadow in your sunshine. Loving you from a distance was the only way I knew how to keep myself from unraveling at your absence. They say unrequited love is poetic. But poetry doesn’t ache like this. It doesn’t watch someone else get what you never even had the chance to lose. Still, if I had the choice, I’d love you again. Because even in the ache, you were worth the ink.