Being Miserable

I have spent many a night awake late, watching the sun come up, sat on my sofa and writing, writing words that will never matter, words that no one will read. I feel like I’ve spent a life time chasing, chasing something that isn’t really there.
I know my faults.
They by far outweigh my good points.
And I hate it when somebody enters your life just to turn around and walk out again.
I’m very unsure.
Unsure as to how I feel.
Unsure as to how he might feel.
We can be romantic and imagine all the beautiful things in life were made for us.
But sometimes reality is harsh.
And sometimes it’s better to accept said harsh reality, than to day dream about romance and beauty.
Finding out that I was out of my depth is my turning point.
He’s way out of my league.
How could I even begin to compare to fast cars, champagne and cheap thrills?
I am from a council estate in the North West, in a town that no-one has ever heard of.
The most I could ever wish for is a diamond ring and a couple of vows.
There is much misery in being a nobody.
But there is also so much security in never having anything to achieve.