Talking to you is akin to the therapy that I have always needed to mend my chimerical chamber of imagination. It is therapeutic in a way that no word can truly explain how it feels. Everytime we talk, I could never look you in your eyes and yet, my heart never skip a beat.
I am shy, in front of you, yet I have always longed for your attention. Your smile never cease to mitigate the sorrow in my heart. Every morning, I check my notification, just to see if you are there, replying my messages. Every night, I keep dragging our conversation, just so that we can stay in touch for a little longer.
You said to me, “I want to talk to you everyday.” You have no idea how ecstatic I was at that moment. Even though you didn’t feel like talking, my desperate self will find a way to start a conversation with you. When you kept silent and did not reply, I wondered, were you depressed? I feel so obligated to make you happy that it hurts, so why aren’t you happy?
On that day, I really wanted the photo of us during our graduation day to be posted as my display picture but I was scared, to be exposed. During our outings, I even rejected my friend’s offer just so that I could sit beside you in the theater, staring at your smile and your cute face when you were terrified. I faked that I needed to hold someone’s hand during moments of jump scare, just so that I have an excuse to hold your hand.
I know this is a one-sided admiration that will never bloom any time in the future, since you are in love and just treating me merely as your best friend. I hope that you find happiness in the current state of yours while I can only sit at the corner, dreaming to ever meet a guy who mirrors you. You allowed me to feel a whole new sensation that I was never familiar with.
It is not love, nor is it a feeling of falling for you. Is it?