Some questions don't get asked out loud.
Not in front of friends.
Not on social media.
Not at brunch.
They wait until two in the morning, when the world is asleep and there's nobody around to judge the answer.
"Am I crazy for still wanting to marry them?"
It's a strange place to stand. The relationship has changed. The future isn't what it was. The person you imagined growing old with isn't standing next to you anymore.
People will tell you to move on.
Some will say if it ended, it wasn't meant to be.
Others will remind you there are billions of people in the world.
And maybe they're right.
But love has never been a math problem.
Because the question isn't whether someone else exists.
The question is why one person still exists inside you.
Why — after all this time — when you picture a wedding, a house, a family, a future, the same face still shows up.
That doesn't make you crazy.
That makes you human.
The Replacement Economy
We live in a world that celebrates replacement.
Replace the phone.
Replace the car.
Replace the job.
Replace the relationship.
As if every connection can be swapped out for a newer model.
But some people leave fingerprints on your life. Not because they were perfect. Not because the relationship was perfect. Because they changed something in you. They taught you things about yourself nobody else could. They showed you parts of love you'd never seen before.
And once you've felt that, it's hard to pretend it never happened.
A Future, or a Museum
The real question isn't whether you're crazy for still wanting them.
The real question is whether you're in love with who they are today — or who they used to be.
Whether you're holding onto a living possibility, or a beautiful memory.
There's a difference.
One creates a future.
The other creates a museum.
And museums are beautiful places to visit.
They're just hard places to live in.
Hope, Balanced
There's nothing wrong with believing someone is your person.
Nothing wrong with hoping.
Nothing wrong with still seeing a future where everyone else sees an ending.
But hope has to be balanced with reality.
Love requires two people choosing each other.
Not one person choosing for both.
So No, You're Not Crazy
So no.
You're not crazy for still wanting to marry them.
You're not crazy for believing the story isn't over.
You're not crazy for carrying love longer than other people think you should.
Just make sure you're holding onto a person — not a memory.
Because memories never argue.
Memories never change.
Memories never leave.
Real people do.
And real love begins when we learn the difference.
If this piece sat with you, the same question runs through Loverboy, Still — the novel about the kind of love that doesn't leave when it's supposed to. The first three chapters are free to listen to here.