I stand behind my past

There’s a fine line between dreams and reality,
almost as thin as the one between love and hate.
How do you know what’s in front of you,
until it’s actually tangible?
Something you can reach out to touch and love.
Maybe it’s one of those instincts,
where you believe in it enough it will come true.
But that would also mean that everything is perfect,
and that everybody told the truth.

How do we get ourselves in these sort of situations?
Why do we constantly put ourselves out there?
Only to be hurt
And hurt in return.