I want to be enough for you. I want the smile that creeps onto your face when he texts you to be because of me. I lay awake next to you at night wishing to be enough. You will tell me I am. But in all honesty, am I? I am not him. I don’t have his face or his body or his way of making you smile. I don’t have the same charisma or smooth way of talking that gives you that warm feeling. I know biology means nothing to most people, but I know that I am not what you wanted. You may have thought I was at first, but at the end of the day when you are laying next to me in your final minutes before slumber, are you wishing it was him who was holding you close? Him who was running his fingers slowly through your hair because he knows how much it relaxes you? Him whispering soft “I love yous” into the darkness that encased us? Is it really me you want here, or is just the idea of having someone there in the empty space of your bed more comforting than the lonely feeling you grew accustomed to? As you drift off I lay there in almost complete silence. The only thing I can hear besides the light snores escaping your lips is the sound of my heart breaking because I know deep down, I will never be enough. I’m not who you love. I am an idea. A fantasy. A lost dream.