Choices.

Too many dots all over the plane. Way too many to connect. 

OCD. Can't really stop. I'll try though. I need to be happy, need to be myself. But then there is that tiny problem. I don't seem to know who or what myself is anymore. Definition issues.

And what was the other night, a slice of heaven? Since when did you stop being the silly boy I was hopelessly in love with and turn into the man I can't stop thinking about. You shouldn't have sorted out our issue that beautifully. Now I only want you more. 

I ruined it then, when I had you all for myself for 4 years. I learnt. Just like you did. 

I respect your decision more than anything. One of us have to be practical and I'm glad you are taking this on yourself. You can stop assuring me that none can take my place, I already know that. It's just the wait that's haunting me. The uncertainty that comes along with it mostly. And it doesn't really help that you are far far away from me, with a dozen white chics snogging you. 

But if that's our best shot, let's do it. Let's just fucking wait.