I, I love you like a love song baby.

I want to be loved like Joshua Jackson loves Diane Kruger.

 

I’ve had relationships where we’ve talked about forevers.

There were always wishes, fantasies, dreams…Nothing ever concrete. Nothing ever real.

And despite all my pushing away, my carefully chosen “ifs” instead of “whens”, my hesitation in making long term plans, despite all that, I always allowed myself a day dream or two. Never a whole life, but I can remember each fantasy I had with each of my boyfriends in my life.

Becoming someone’s muse/groupie.

Loosening up and becoming spontaneous in a small city where the night didn’t end at 1 am.

Adopting a child and trying to balance motherhood with a career—something I never thought I’d even contemplate.

And despite those fantasies, despite that one daydream, the one piece of hope I held close to my chest, they were always shattered and ripped away.

Looking back, I can’t pin point the exact moment when things turned. Turned from when those fantasies seemed possible, where there was still love between us, when there was hope, to something that became broken and lost…

Approaching milestones seems to make me question the past a lot more. I know the variables have changed immensely; I’ve changed, he’s nothing like the others, we’re growing up, it’s a different relationship than anything I’ve been in.

But I’m still left contemplating the past ‘what if’ lives. Despite my misgivings, my cynicism, my “if we’re still together”s… I guess I’ll always be that romantic.

Always looking for the Joshua Jackson to my (way less stylish) Diane Kruger.