September 9, 2017
I must be going crazy. I should give it a week, right? Before I make any drastic decisions? Before I confess anything to myself?
But you’ve been filling my mind because you’re everything I’ve dreamt of in a person! After a week, you’ll still be the same person, but I just wonder if I’ll still think of you the way I have been…
I want to tell you, I so want to tell you something. But I have to wait a week. Usually these spells wear off after a week. I can wait a week.
Or maybe I can’t. I don’t know. I don’t want to wait. They say when you like someone, you should tell them, don’t waste time, don’t over-think it. I don’t want to wait either, but I also do.
I suppose it’d be best to wait a week before accepting this as a real feeling; uncomfortable and awkward, sometimes painful, situations come from rash decisions.
My brother and I had ventured to your house one time, trying to fiddle with the telescope so we could catch a glimpse of the Moon’s rocky surface. We weren’t sure if it worked, but when it began calibrating, we all leapt around in excitement, then you grabbed me in a quick, tight hug but immediately let me go when you realized what you were doing.
I brought you a red velvet and cream cheese cake one time. Because I remembered you liked it and I hoped to bring a smile to your face. I highly doubt you remember it. I highly doubt you even knew I brought it for you.
When we were still in high school, I remember calling you out of nowhere to rant about my life and get advice about marching band, blabbing for two hours or so. I spoke more than I listened but it didn’t seem to bother you one bit. I felt so relieved afterward. At least, I think I did.
And I remember one time, I visited your house and took up your mother’s offer for dinner with her and your grandmother while your father was occupied at the office and you were far, far away for school. I think I fell for you then, too. But I eventually got over it.
And another time, while helping clean your house, your mother was overjoyed about how I didn’t trash her precious photo album collections that were ruined in the great flood; I told her I didn’t have the heart to.
I’ve known you for a very, very long time, but I don’t want to lose you, lose your lovely company simply at the mercy of my yearning, floaty heart. I want to hug you, wrap my arms around your chest and forget about the awful reality around me.
You surround me with comfort and safety, with a certainty unlike any other I’ve experienced. From you, I know I’ll feel the devotion, the gravity of selfless deeds that laymen may undermine or disregard.
You remember the little things, the minute details of memories, the inside jokes, the anecdotes. It makes my heart all giddy knowing you remember them, too.
I see highly of you. I don’t know how I’d possibly scale the wall to reach something more than the lovely pleasure of knowing you on a quarterly-reunion basis. It’s intimidating, it’s daunting. I don’t know if I’d even make it halfway. There are so many opportunities for failure, too much risk for repercussions. I’ll never know until I try, right? Hell, I’m just too afraid to try!
But so long as I was able to impress you and potentially bring a smile to your face, maybe even an endearing chuckle, then I can live happily another day.