She was perfect.
She was beautiful.
And I knew I had to have her.
What I didn’t understand back then was that you can’t own people.
You can’t ”have” someone.
They have to want to be with you.
And it’s up to you to create that want.
To do everything in your power so that she wants to be with you.
I didn’t understand that when I met her.
I was a boy. Too young to understand.
Too young to think more than an hour ahead.
I was young, and she was perfect.
It was a recipe for a broken heart.
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Categories: flash fiction