Fool

You told me the sky was blue. I believed you.

You told me some things were worth living for. I believed you.

You told me happy endings weren't only restricted to fairy tales. I believed you.

I was young and clueless, you were old and wise. I was the earth, you were the sky. I was black, you were white. You were day, I was night.

We used to stand, right there under the cloudy grey sky and stare up into oblivion until our eyes would ache and our heads would spin. You asked me if I could be anyone in the world, who would I be? And I simply said ‘myself’ because I was afraid that if I was someone else, then I would not know you.

I thought you were perfect; I thought you were mine. And then when I was there, and so were you and we were simply standing still, you told me to look up at the stars.

I asked you what they were, and you told me they were fireflies, lost in the night. You told me one day we could catch them all. And I believed you.

In the end, that castle you had built just for the two of us collapsed, and you left me there under the rubble to wonder where it had gone wrong. And finally, when I found the courage to look, I realised that the foundations had never been what I thought they were.

It turns out the sky is not blue, it is grey.

It turns out some things are worth living for, but you’re not one of them.

It turns out that happy endings are restricted to fairy tales.

It turns out that all this time, I was the fool.