Nothing truly compares to that sobering feeling when I can manage to pull my head from the clouds and down to reality. I look around, blinking away the fog to realize that I can’t actually see anyone ever managing to fall in love with me. So I’m just left there, stuck with my feet planted in one spot while my fantasies slip through my fingers like dust, my eyes line with tears and I’m completely alone and empty. Maybe the only reason I’ve been able to survive this long is because of all the daydreaming I do. I don’t think I could possibly stand my reality for too long. It is only cold and dark and hollow. No one wants to live in that. So instead I’ll swim in the liquid blue sky and let the soft wisps of clouds froth over my skin and be happy with the illusion that I’m the sort of person who could ever experience love.