Getting by on self helper’s high

In my mind, you go walking barefoot every dawn, unshackled through great cities of other thoughts-
You’ve seen the towers of self esteem that protrude and detract with situational weather; you’ve strolled past the open shop windows of lust and morality that plague my decisions and hopes muddled together, you’ve tip toed through the depression forest quietly and carefully, holding your shadows in your hands as to not cast any contours on my present or future pains, for which I tolerate gratefully-
But you are not even you in my mind, you look like yourself, its true because I have chosen to imprint your face on my idea of you, but the only reason that you are there, is because I don’t have any other place any where, to safely catalog what I want from you between my expectations and the river of my ambitions which never stops coursing through…
My mind has infinite highways and many abandoned missions,
except the one,
that I want someone,
in waking life, like you, physically, hence your embodiment for me mentally, yet, this person can not be you because you are not the man for me, obviously…
For the time being, I let you traipse through the cascading waterfalls of my feelings and saunter down the cobblestone streets of my wishes until I can figure out how to materialize an actual man to take your imaginary place, A man who loves me face to face-who will continue to challenge me to hold my own mental reins, who will love me when there isn’t anything interesting that I have to say, who can teach me while I learn to accept who I truly am, who can’t imagine having no access to the mind where you presently dwell when my inner city’s windows are broken through and my heart has exploded with cortisol all over the sun in my mind’s sky, he will abide
He will survive and thrive-
and for now this too is not real at all.
And embarrassingly I know that he may never come to be, that all of this is ultimately down to me and I should replace your visage immediately, with something more valuable to me, a structural memory in my mind’s metropolis of my happiest version parading freely, a prototype of the goddess that I should be while I’m still living-a successful woman who has forgotten you completely….
I’ll get there eventually…
Thank you for temporarily filling the spot for him, for me…
Thank you for reminding me that without either I’m the architect of my own existing….

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