The truth about how I feel
You plague my thoughts. It pisses me off but you really do. I’m angry about the fact that I have never felt this about anyone before. I actually hate that you have charmed me. This genuinely was not supposed to happen. We were supposed to be friends. But I feel this insane shame about perverting our friendship. And I want to apologize. I know you don’t like me like that. I know you probably never will. And for that reason I remain silent. Playing a fool. Because I’m willing to hurt just to be around you. You and your stupid jokes that manage to make me laugh, your beautiful eyes, the way you love everything you love so intensely. So much you have to share it to the world. I hate that we like so much of the same things. So that even when I try to find solace in what I love, I find your voice loving it the same. I hate how when you told me about that girl you like, i smiled and wished you the best. Knowing you deserve someone perfect like her. I know I’m beautiful. I’m pretty. You make it a point for me to be aware of that as you remind me. But I know I’m the kind of pretty I know you could never see like that. The kind of pretty that you tell your friends in a way to help them feel better. You let me believe that you could like me. You send me things that remind you of me. You remember little things. You are one of the only straight men that can just have female friends. And I’m so pathetic I got a crush on the first man who saw me as a human. I hate you for making me feel this way. But I still long to be around you. So close but so far from what I want. I don’t even care about anything. I don’t lust. I just yearn to hold your hand. I fucking can’t stand you. So I’ll stay. I’ll scroll on bumble. I’ll read my romance novels. Wishing it is you who could see me as someone you can like. Until then, if it ever happens, I’ll settle for the little glances into your heart, your soul, your mind. Because it is the closest thing I have ever felt to being alive. Because we never really are aware that we are alive, until we hurt.