I spent around six hundred days without seeing him, six hundred kisses, six hundred car conversations, six hundred sleepless nights, but neither of us felt that. It was like we were back in 2011 with no other obligation besides talking for hours in the back of a car. Only one thing changed, at least for me. For the first time I asked myself an unavoidable ‘what if?’

It was clear that life with him wasn’t an option, we were opposites that even when attracted could not be together forever. Things were going to be good for 6-7 hours straight, while talking non-sense, but outside that car there was nothing more than sadness, frustration, and the word ‘impossible’ all over our ‘whatever you wanna call it’. Why was it so hard to accept this? Why did I keep feeling that he was all I wanted?

And then again, I remembered I wanted something else. I wanted someone to love me as much as I loved myself, not because I need love, but because it feels good to be loved. Did he ever love me? Did he even know what love is? How sad it is to think that…