I can’t tell you how I feel because it’s easier to lie to myself. It’s easier to pretend these feelings are nonexistent, to push them deep into my stomach until it aches. I don’t want to care about you. I don’t want to like you. I don’t want the butterflies hibernating in my chest to awaken and cause chaos. I would rather feel nothing. I would rather embrace the numbness and ignore the fantasies you have been making me think.
I can’t tell you how I feel because I can already picture how it’s going to end. In heartache. In embarrassment. In regret. I don’t want to make a fool of myself by chasing after you when you are not interested in getting caught by anyone, least of all me. I don’t want to put my heart out there and have it stomped over. I don’t want to put myself through that kind of hell when the situation is entirely avoidable.
I can’t tell you how I feel because you are never going to give me the response I am hoping to hear. You aren’t going to react the way you do in my daydreams, where you admit you feel the exact same way and press your lips against my neck then my collarbone. You aren’t going to give me what I want from you so there is no point in asking. There is no reason to admit how much I have been thinking about you lately.
I can’t tell you how I feel because I have been struggling to explain it to myself. I’m not sure exactly what I want from you. There are some days when you will not leave my mind and other days when I swear I am better off without you. I’m not sure whether we would have what it takes to make a relationship last even if you felt the same way. I’m not sure whether I only like the idea of you or whether I actually like the raw unfiltered you.
I can’t tell you how I feel because saying the words aloud would make it too real. I haven’t told any of my friends how I feel about you. I haven’t even had the courage to write it down on paper. I have been pretending you mean nothing. I have been pretending you are just another stranger who could walk out of my life without causing a ripple. I’m not ready to admit you mean more to me than that. I am not ready to place my heart on a platter.
I can’t tell you how I feel about you, but you can probably see it anyway. You can probably tell there is something more between us by the way I look at you, by the way I say your name, by the way I smile back. I doubt you need to hear me say how much I like you because it’s probably been written all over my face this entire time.