It’s like I’m standing on the edge of two worlds. In one, there’s everything I’ve ever been told I should want - stability, comfort, someone who’s steady, predictable. It’s a calm, familiar place where I’m safe, where I can breathe, knowing there’s always someone to catch me if I fall. But it’s… quiet. Too quiet. And sometimes, the silence is deafening, leaving this hollow ache that grows louder every day.

Then, there’s the other world - the one I can’t stop thinking about, the one that pulses with heat and excitement, where everything is alive, raw, unfiltered. It’s like a flame burning just out of reach, drawing me in with the promise of something deeper, something real. When I think of him, it’s like my blood ignites, my heart races, and for just a moment, I feel more alive than I ever have. It’s unrestrained and dangerous, but it’s real. There’s no pretending, no holding back, just pure, raw passion that consumes every inch of me.

But the conflict… oh, the conflict. It twists inside me, this hunger for something more - more than the quiet life I have, more than the steady love that’s safe but never truly sets me on fire. I want both - don’t I deserve both? The stability that grounds me and the passion that makes me feel alive? Yet, I know the truth. I can’t have them both. One will always be sacrificed for the other.

I long for that wildness, but I fear losing the safety I’ve come to rely on. And so, I stand here, torn in two, longing for the impossible - yearning for a life where I’m not constantly at war with myself, where I can have both the quiet calm and the storm that rages within me.