The world I live in

I live in a world of my own.

The world is strange.

It’s strange in a way where I still convince myself that I’ll get her back. Sometimes, I’m convinced that she’s going to come back or somehow, someplace, we’re going to bump into each other again and start over.

I still believe that she loves me.

I see her in my dreams. It’s like she’s at the door that’s open. But she never comes in.

I don’t know why she doesn’t walk through the door.

It’s open after all.

I stay up at night everyday while it’s quiet outside.

But in my mind, it’s every noise that you can think of. It never stops. It’s never quiet in my head.

Or maybe it’s my world that’s strange.