They see me smiling. They don’t know the ache I feel when they make fun of “them.” I’m afraid. To tell, to say a word. So I won’t.
I don’t know what this is. I say its just a phase, but I know its so much more than that. I lay in bed thinking of you, and wonder, what if. I shudder away the thought. There’s no point in getting my hopes up at this point. I know we will never be more than what we are now.
“And as the days go by, it makes you wonder why you try so hard, so hard, to mend what’s bound to fall apart. Maybe its time to let it go. Maybe its time, time, time to let it fall where it may.”—Chris and Thomas, Broken Chair
Yesterday was probably the most I’ve spoken to you all year. The past weeks have been filled with awkward glances, the occasional question. Each leaving me feeling fucked over. Yesterday, I was able to talk to you without stuttering like a fool, but its still hard sometimes. Yesterday, we lay on the couch together, just like old times. Oh, how your touch sent me to the moon. I wonder everyday, whether you would feel the same.
I don’t know you. We don’t talk to eachother, we barely even acknowledge eachother’s presence. I don’t know you, then why do I keep coming back to you.
You are all I think about nowadays. I’ve spent my summer trying like hell to forget about you. I have a hold on hope. This hope that you might feel the same too. This hope that when you catch my eye, you stop breathing. This hope that when you see me come into the room, your heart begins to pulse.