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"You walked into my life, expecting everything."

She sighs. She breathes. She's here.
Now, she's here. I don't know for how much longer, if she'll ever say goodbye when she leaves, if she ever does. But she's here. Now.

She's real.
Now, she's real. I don't know if she'll move on, and I don't know why I don't know, but I don't. But she's real. And I'm not.

"Whenever I start to feel..."
"Feel close. Whenever I start to feel close with someone, someone I can relate to, someone I care about..."

Maybe one day she'll pack up all of her things, her hair ties and her faded jeans, worn out memories and knick knacks of times she doesn't remember. Maybe, just maybe.

"They're taken away from me."

Ripped from me, I'd like to say. Maybe I think too much, I think. Maybe I think too little. There are so many things I'd like to say, but I don't know how.

"So I won't bother you anymore. I won't even think of you. I'll erase you from my memory and you can start again with someone..."

I can't begin to think.
Maybe she'll end up with someone completely new. Maybe she won't. Maybe she'll live a wonderful life with everything she's ever imagined. Maybe she won't.

"Someone else."

Maybe.