Heart's a mess

You exist in my world for a long time but you were always some kind of dream, an imaginary scenery, a potential for something. Now you came into the material field, real, palpable. I can touch you now, read you, feel you. And I did touch, read, felt. Indeed I felt so much, read so much, touched so little that sometimes I wonder if it all happened for real or if I'm still dreaming. But if I'm dreaming and this is all in my head, please wake me up. I want to know that I'm dreaming because if not, I can't take it anymore. I want to go back to imagining, to seeing potential and having you as my antagonist, stuck between love and hate rather than stuck between love and lament as it is now.
 We never actually had anything, no strings attached, no promises or contract for anything but it hurts me to look back and say that what we had was nothing. Because you are not nothing to me. You are pretty much most of what I see, think of, remember and suffer about. You are, and maybe always has been, my weakness.