Placemats

If people were placemats then you and I would be placemats located directly across from each other on a dining room table set for two. Seldom used but rarely overlooked. Artfully dressed with utensils of varying degrees, and plates colored to match the room. Protecting perhaps a couple's heirloom of a table. No one will step foot in the dining room tonight. No one has for a very long time. Someone, however, has glanced towards the entrance and seen the plates and the utensils. Someone has seen the candle located in the very middle of the table and noticed the paintings on the walls. Someone has realized that the past should've been kept the past, and our futures should've been separated like they were years before. However, as placemats we will never come to such realizations. We will never stumble unto even the slightest faintest hint that our lives were never meant to intertwine once more. Perhaps the aspect of never knowing creates a sense of wellbeing and contentment. But perhaps your sense of wellbeing and contentment leaves me with a void black hole settling in my chest that is and has always been craving more. Maybe I was meant to be more than just a placemat to someone, but unfortunately that's all you're turning out to be. The fact is that placemat or not, some part of me misses some characteristic you have that no one else seems to contain. The fact is that our relationship was supposed to leave a dent in my upbringing inevitably. I can't tell if you'll leave a dent or if you'll destroy my upbringing entirely. I can't tell if the boy was worth it or if he wasn't. I can't tell if I'm happy or
If I'm content. But all in all, none of that matters. All in all, you never really learn what matters.

Author's Note

Late night thoughts.