so there goes my life...

I feel like you're dead. I feel like you're something I could never actually touch, only dream about touching. Its as if you died and I wrote your eulogy and I told everyone how amazing you were, and still are, if only in my dreams. And I could not utter one single bad word about you because it would be disrespecting your memory. Not only that, I would be looked down on for my bad taste. And afterwards I would be looking at you, dead in your casket, solemn and pitiful and unmoving, words of your greatness, my words, would be running through my head. And I know they aren't true, can't be true, no one is that perfect, certainly not you anyway. But I believe them anyway because they were said, because someone somewhere believed them and because on some level, it made things easier. Its easier to tell people you were obsessed with this god-like person and not just a regular person walking by you on the street, but a person with depth. And after a while, the words really sink in, the lie becomes truth because who's to prove it otherwise. And I'm still standing there looking at you, looking at the body you used to inhabit, the greatness floating around your casket and making me feel breathless. And I'm suddenly overcome with the need to touch you, the need to touch your greatness and your depth, but as I reach out to do it, as my fingers tingle with anticipation, a glass window slides over you, blocking my touch, destroying my courage. And suddenly you're awake, alive, moving and looking at me as though you've never seen me before. And it's all gone, its all over and I can't remember how it started.