It feels nice to pretend that you’re here, to see your face amongst a sea of others, even if for one moment. It’s nice to imagine you’re next to me, even if just the ease the loneliness for a moment. It’s nice to imagine that it’s just us, in that field you always talked about, with that boy we always dreamed. It’s nice to imagine the world that could have been. In some ways it’s terribly sad, but in other ways it puts me at peace to know that in some other world everything that could have been is. There’s a different us somewhere else that is living the life we always talked about. I have to believe that our love wasn’t a waste of time, wasn’t just a passing chapter in a book. It was real, and it is being lived somewhere else, somewhere away from this place.