irreplaceable.
Everyone in this world wears their own shade of unique, a fingerprint no one else was born to share. Meet someone once in a lifetime, lose them the next, and you will never again find a face, a voice, a soul that mirrors what you’ve lost. That is the quiet cruelty of losing someone real.
And it goes for you too.
The moment I feared losing you, I already understood the truth: I would never see anyone like you again. I could search through a million faces in this world and still come home empty-handed, because you are the only one. That is how I have always held you — not as someone ordinary, but as someone precious, extraordinary, mine to cherish.
But that is not how you hold me, I think. I think you look at me and see something replaceable, something interchangeable, a placeholder waiting to be swapped for the next. And I refuse to believe that, because I know who I am. I know what I could become — that I could be anything, everything I ever wanted to be.
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So I walked two miles into the dark of night, asking myself: am I even worthy to stand beside you? And moments later, I was furious at myself for asking something so small, so beneath what I deserved to wonder.
The real question was never that.
The real question was: are you worth my effort, my time, my nights spent walking alone under the sky that gave no answers?
You have been kind, genuine, every inch a gentleman — so much so that I lost the ability to see clearly. Is your kindness meant for me, or is it a debt you expect me to repay? I could never tell. I searched your eyes for the answer and found only my own reflection, uncertain.
I believed, once, that I was irreplaceable.
But yesterday, I saw you with another — standing in the very place that used to be only mine.
