You know my story. You met me when I was literally at my worst. You knew how my heart was shattered to thousands of pieces because of thousand reasons, yet you stayed.
You heard me sing my favorite heartache song, and you even sing with me whenever you feel like I had too much dose of self-pity for the day. You knew that I needed someone, and so you stayed.
Someday, someone’s gonna love me the way I wanted you to need me..
Someday, someone’s gonna take your place..
..and you were insane enough to listen until the end.
One day, I’ll forget about you..
You’ll see, I won’t even miss you…
Someday, I know someone’s gonna be there!
And you only listened to my endless cries and mumbles about the bitter past.
You know how real that song is for me, because the only wrong thing I did was to love too much, and was only hurt too deeply. The song became my mantra, my personal prayer of hope.
I don’t know if, at one point, you ever realized this, but you turned out to be the someone in my someday. You became the love I didn’t know I needed. You became the answer to the prayer that I’ve been singing for a long time.
Now, every time I sing that song, it’s no longer to make myself believe and hope and mourn for what I lost; I sing it now as a proof that some wishes (if you wish hard enough) could be and would be granted.
To my falling star, my wishbone, my 11:11, my birthday candle, my love, thanks for the thousand days of patience. You are my favorite song.