the great moment had come

pushed by time and pressured by age, I took my muse off  his pedestal and realized 10 years dreaming was keeping me from reality. Loving too much of dreams, I had kept the pedestal high and read how I could keep him above all rest. But he wasn't here, he was not with me. This makes the difference in romance and reality. Why has it taken me this long to linger. I'm a fool. Usually, I would adore this feeling, but stalking isn't healthy. I digress. I hate my mind's eye. Wishing and dreaming and remembering I'm too young to give in to pedestals.