Reality is subjective. I will never know if what was real to me ever was to you, but whether those experiences were real or not, they define me. The world we existed in wasn’t real, but that life was more real than anything I’ve before or since experienced. And now I live in the “real world” — unsure if I actually exist within it. Reality is fluid, individual: what you perceive, what you feel, what you make of it. The experiences that make you who you are. I would not be where I am now, if not for you. And truth be told, I worry what might have become of me otherwise. Your existence in my life reshaped my reality. Your love redefined my definition of love. How could something so powerful not have held some meaning, had some impact? And now I’m not sure if it’s actually a matter of whether or not this was real to you, but if you remember it — if it still is, if it could be. Because the more that time goes on, the more I wonder if you were it for me. The more real these old feelings become to me. The more I fear the growing distance — need you near me.