“You’re not my girlfriend” He says after anything that could possible suggest otherwise. Every romantic novel or movie would suggest that these 4 words would end my whole world. That my breath would be caught and a lump would form in my throat. My heart would break so loudly that he might hear it. And as I would choke back tears to agree to this statement, or to have any retaliation, he would look into my eyes and feel something for me and his heart my break too. Instead, in reality, I laugh as I confirm I am not his. For why would I be? When he holds me at night, I don’t swoon the following day. I don’t wait for him to text me or call my name. When I daydream of a lover, I do not picture his face. He is not mine and I, not his. We are too much alike and far too different. I do not love him. I am incapable of doing so.











