...but then...

...but then you could never feel that warmth there by your side. No one's imagination is quite that good, believe me, I've tried. I used to have two blankets on my bed to help me sleep at night. It all started quite by accident. You see, I was cleaning and my thought was "Well, a blanket should go on a bed. I'll just move it to a better place later." But later didn't come for a long while. That extra blanket just stayed beside me; it was asleep like I was soon to be. It took on a life of its own for a while. Like it could breathe, like it could sing me lullabies. But it didn't have hands, and it never woke up. It was in a coma. It was as good as dead.

I blame it all on him. He was so marvelous, and I knew I was in love with him. Just as well as I knew I loved him, I knew, without a doubt he loved me. I spent that summer awake, when I should have been asleep. I spent those years trapped inside his beautiful eyes. And my hands were held for a time. And I dreamed of when I was older and he and I were wed. I was not afraid of the future, because to think on it did not make me face my fear of being alone.

Then winter came. I lived inside of that winter so long. I faced that awful fear. That love I had been so certain of was stripped away. I should have just forgotten it was there in the first place, but how do you forget something that brought such comfort and happiness? Everything I said and did revolved around that love. It was so cold. And I, I was cold too. Silence settled in and robbed me of my smile. I was dead just like his love for me. I was dead just like that blanket.

There is good all around, how fortunate for me. And there is love everywhere. Now I am the criminal, leading that loveless boy on for a time. I am no better than he was. And while my love is real, it is not the brand which he had hoped for. He only loves me because I am a sure thing. He only loves me because I am constantly the same, unchanged.

But one day...I'll be wholy loved and give all the love inside of me in return.

Everything I write sounds the same.