Lately, I’ve come to the realization that I may be in love with a ghost.
But, honestly, I don’t care, which should be what scares me most.
“I noticed you still look for his truck.”
I wish I could explain just how much that statement sucked.
Because yes, I still look for him in parking lots, at stores, and all over town.
I wish I could stop searching for his stupid, white Chevy when we drive around.
It’s hopeless and irrational, and I don’t even mean to do it.
But maybe I haven’t fully let go, and a part of me always knew it.
I’ll always have love for that boy, even when it hurts.
I don’t think I can ever fully let go because, to me, that’d be worse. 
Keeping the remainder of any connection I still invisibly have with him.
Is so much better than letting the memories die by cutting them off on a whim.
Because those memories mean something. Those memories of both him and I
That’s why it bugs me when people ask me questions that begin with, “Why?”
“Why do you still pray for him? That seems a little desperate.”
“Why won’t you just let him go? He clearly doesn’t respect it.”
“Why do you still think about him? I mean, he clearly doesn’t want you. He chose another girl.”
“You’re constantly pining over this boy, and honestly, it makes me want to hurl.”
But they just don’t understand. They don’t know him like I do.
“It’s been two whole years. You don’t even know him like you used to.”
They have a point. Maybe I don’t know exactly who he is now, on this very day.
But I don’t care how much he may change. I will always have love for him.
What else can I possibly say?
Maybe people think my emotions are shallow, and that I obsess over an empty character from my past.
So over time, we’ll just test out that theory by seeing how long these feelings last.
2 years in counting… I’m sorry, I guess I shouldn’t boast.
It might just be easier for everyone else if I say I’m in love with a ghost.