When your eyes meet with mine, oh how they transform a cloudy day into a sunny sky. We don’t realize the strong our hearts could be together. Fooling ourselves with the idea that we’re not meant to be. As cute as our babies could be, with your beautiful blue eyes, and my thin smile… I go to sleep every night thinking of you and our perfect love story.
Telling our story when we grow older, our amazing, beautiful, enchanting, love story. It’s funny, how the first time you make eye contact with someone, you don’t know what that person is going to become to you. A person you never thought you could like suddenly has you bouncing at his feet. That’s unfair; you shouldn’t feel what you don’t want to. Someone should be there to remind you every time you’re going to fall in love that it is a drug. You try it, not making it a big deal as it should be. Days go on, and you start growing affection to it, wanting it more and more, because it makes you feel good, peace, quiet, loved. At the end, drugs harm, love aches. They both leave you on the floor; they both hurt you at the end. Because there are no infinities in love, they never have and they never will exist.
So, yes. We can start by saying ‘’hello’’ in the halls more often, maybe making more bumping into each other ‘’coincidences’’, some day you can even ask me out for coffee. Okay, maybe you’ll text me and I’ll answer as if for me your message was nothing. But you don’t know that I could never think right knowing that you thought about me in your free time, that the picture of my face bumped into your head out of nothing. Coffee? Starbucks and cigarettes after school. We would actually tell funny stories, some things that happened that day. We could actually end up with a smile on our faces. Friday night, horny as fuck, I would call you and invite you to come over. I’m actually home alone, so we decide to drink from the Vodka bottle I have hidden in my room.
Confession after confession, we would form a bond. Since we are no longer in our five senses, we would start kissing. Lips touching, his tongue being welcomed in my mouth, butterflies that cannot be controlled and chills running through my whole body. Next day, you just want to cuddle with him. You go to his house; he introduces you to his dad and his brother. You act as the shy girl. Next step you are just watching a movie, because he hates TV shows. Months pass, everything is passionate, lovely and kind. But suddenly, he can’t do it no more. He just has too much going on in his life. And you just lie there, in your bed, recollecting all of your talks, texts and dates, blaming and asking yourself what you did wrong. The problem my darling, is that you’re not wrong, love is.
Today was the first day in 2014 I cried for someone. Also, it was the first time since I’ve met him, that I’ve cried for him. Sadly, I cannot live with my head filled with query. I’m not like the girls that text the guy they like, or try to call his attention. But suddenly, with him is different. Everything has been different since I’ve met him. I got into a roller coaster the first time I looked at him. I didn’t even have a choice and I went directly with fast-pass. A stranger that became my crush and then my friend, the one who made me feel terribly but also butterflies when I caught him staring. I crave him like anything I’ve ever craved before.
He has certain appealing that hooks me every time he talks to me. His eyes, the way they smile and become yellowish with the sun. His laugh and the way he grabs my shoulder when he’s behind me. The fact that I already imagine myself introducing him to my parents. I just have the biggest desire to have him. To being able to call him more than the name ”friend”. I want to see him outside those halls from school. I want him to grab my hand, to tell me how much he likes me while he kisses my nose and my forehead.
After everything that’s happened, my hopes just went lower with time. I feel like I’m in the last descend of the roller coaster knowing it will end. My head is filled with thoughts of him, of doubt, of sadness, of regret. The thing is, I actually thought I could make him like me for who I am. But I guess I just fucked things up, like I’m used to. I cared and showed him to much. But I just want him to know that if he had given me a chance, I would have been the girl that loved him, that cared for him. Maybe he was my crush, and I was younger and foolish. But at the end, I was there.