The sounds of students shuffling around the halls echo through my headphones. Some walking alone, some with friends, and some with partners. All having a different life, in the same life. The world is so big that it has become so small. I spot him easily in the halls, even though my brain screams that I have moved on, I still find him anywhere, any time, any place. “She had no chance” what a funny saying. As I walk past him he glances at me and my heart betrays me, _he noticed me! He noticed me! Maybe he was joking_. But I know better than to listen to that liar, always trying to make me a mess. It has been months, he probably doesn't even remember your name. When my heart finally starts to move on to the next one after grieving something I never had. What I did got lost in the fog of students wandering those cold halls. Each ghostly memory haunts my sleepless nights and working days. There are bigger problems. Why are you so selfish? Your stupid little feelings are screwing with your relationships. You know you had no chance, why did you believe your heart? You have seen countless relationships soar and then burn to the ground. A wingless bird they call love. But why give them wings if they were not meant to try? Maybe some things are best for books, but as I turn the pages the words blur to pictures, the pictures blur to memories. Reality and love don't go in hand for many. But with the choice I will cling to the chance of real life like a child to their parents. Love and war. I wonder why they say that? Love is like a war for many, but true love should be going into war together. Not court. When you love someone you love them with your heart, not your head. We keep our hearts in cages, because some say they are monsters. But they forget about fairytales when the sweet princess is trapped in a cage. Our hearts are seen as wingless birds, but I want to fly. “I love you” they say, but do they really mean _you_ or do they love the person they think you are? I'd like to think they truly like me and them for us. My brain knows better than to believe in words and actions, masks covering so much of us that there is none of us left besides the lies we have written for ourselves to make us feel better. Identity, compassion, love. It's all for kids. They say to grow up and not like childish things. But I am a child. We should like childish things. I shouldn't have to worry whether or not my future partner is truly the person they say they are or if its only the dreams, and lies I have told myself. Love is real. But it's so hard to find, it's like trying to find a memory that has been so hidden in lies that it is now only a grain of sand on the beach. I'd like to say I remember the good old days when I thought love was a guarantee, before fate had a play in my life. 2,720 days. It feels too long ago, but the memories are so hidden I'm not even sure it's true. But even throughout all the years I will still cling on to the dream of love, my red string. I know it's out there. For now I'll walk these halls guarding my heart in its cage as best as I can until the day I find that far far away land where love is waiting for me, holding out its hand with the other end of that string. Because hope is all I have, it may hurt, but so much hurts that it feels like a warm welcome. If I was given life, its meaning is to live it the best i can. Waiting, looking, hoping. For that warm love to meet with reality and i.