NOTE: This is total fiction.
Another practice done, and I’m no closer to him than he is to that significant other. Okay, so maybe that was a little harsh, but is it THAT hard to return everything? It isn’t like he goes out clubbing every night or something...right? I’m just being a female. He has more important things to do than sitting in his plastic chair, waiting for an invite from some diva who is just with him because it’s convenient. But I’m not like those other girls...
If he only knew how much I truly cared about him. I get there early just to say hey to him. Of course, what else am I supposed to do, I can’t sleep. He’s in my dreams and he’s in my thoughts. My schoolwork is getting sloppy because I can’t focus on anything but his smile. I don’t know what I would do if one of those mega-killowatt smiles were ever directed at me. I think I would die. But I would die happy.
Then, there are times where I don’t feel like a whole girl anymore. I walk around, I smile, and I wave, I go through the motions of being alive. How can I be alive without a heart though? That man has single-handedly taken over my head completely. Mmm...those hands, taken me from the strong-willed woman I used to be and turned me into a pile of romantic goo lying in a heep at those sneakers of his.
I’ve stood infront of my mirror in my bedroom and rehearsed what to say, I really have. I’d march right up to him and tap him on the shoulder, wrap my arms around him and give him the kiss of his life. Okay, so maybe that isn’t exactly words, but I’d love to do it just the same. If he only knew how much I loved him...if he only knew.
Some of the girls ask me why I turn down date offers from guys like him or he, etc. Why? Just to tell them that I’m head over heels in love with someone else? Someone I want to hug and be held by, someone who I want to go to sleep beside while he whispers sweet nothings into my ear...someone I want to grow old with. Someone I want to die with. I can’t do that to him. I would feel like I was cheating on him, even though we aren’t together.
I sometimes refuse to believe that his heart was made of stone, that he didn't know all the ways to get to the heart. No matter how bad his life was, I don't even care anymore about that. All that matters to me was, does he even know how alike we really are? From the type of movies, food, everything...down to the type of persons we want to spend the rest of our lives with. I'd rather shut up and be his friend instead, rather spend the rest of my life not knowing who really was. Emotions are raw and fragile, he says, and he didn't want to go back there again, for fear of someone breaking his heart again. I'd rather shut up and not see him like that. It'll be too much. I'll only be his friend, his constant companion...his fellow human being, no matter how much it hurts.
Well diary, thanks for listening again. I know you’re probably tired of hearing about it, aren’t you? Well, until I muster up the courage to talk to him, I’m afraid you’ll have to. You’ll be the first person I tell if I ever do get to talk to him, then you’ll get to listen to me about that for...well...however long that lasts. Until then, this is me, signing off.
***What is the fucking matter with me?
hehehe
dPaT nAgrErEvIew aQ ngAun... naKaKa2w kCing bSahIn aNg bL()g!!!