I’m Not The One You Love

Karen Cantú Q

I wish I could tell myself its all okay. I wish I could tell you that it’s no big deal. I wish that it didn’t hurt as much as it does. I wish the feelings would go away and we could just focus on enjoying time with each other.

But that’s not how life works.

I wish I could stand on the rooftop of the tallest building in the world and scream out to everyone how much my heart aches. I wish I could look you in the eyes and tell you exactly how I’m feeling.

I wish I could grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you when I drop a hint and you brush it off. I wish you would look at me with the same sparkle in your eyes as when you look at her. I wish you would fall in love with the psychological connection that we have more than the physical attraction you have for her.

But that’s not how life works.

Here’s how life works. I meet you, finally, because I had seen you around and always thought you were fascinating but of course, I would never walk up and introduce myself to you.

After I meet you, we start talking. First, it’s the trivial stuff, the boring stuff, the stuff that no one really cares about and is only meant to be a filler of awkward silences. And then one day you catch me at a rough time and you ask about my day and I pour the load onto you, and you take an interest. We start talking more and more, less frivolous conversations and more that stick to the bones and make me think.

Here’s how life works. I start to look forward to seeing you, and as I turn every corner I hope you’re there to lighten my day for just a few seconds with your smile and charm and witty comments that give me motivation. I put a bit more effort into the way I look, because the thought of you seeing me makes me want to try a little harder. And you start to flirt with me a little bit because you sense me enjoyment, you sense my happiness, you sense my interest in you. I flirt back, because why not.

Here’s how life works. One night you pour into me, more than I ever thought anyone would. You tell me you trust me, and I tell you I trust you too.

We talk for hours on end, and the vibe between us seems to change. After that night we begin to catch each other’s eyes across the room, sharing glances that only we know the meaning of. People begin to ask if we’re dating and we both brush it off, but I begin to wonder, I begin to fantasize, I begin to hope that this bond will mean something down the road.

Here’s how life works. You become my rock, you become my person, you become my confidante. I learn about you and I admire you more and more because I know who you are and why you are the way you are. I see the bond we have, clear as day, and everyone else does too.

The only one that doesn’t see it, is you.

Here’s how life works. Even though I’m the one you pour into, I’m the one you drive around with mindlessly for hours, I’m the one you go on adventures with, I’m the one you talk about a future with, I’m the one you spend an abnormal amount of time with, I’m not the one you love.

I’m not the one with the beauty pageant walk or the shiny hair or the flat stomach. I’m not the one with the photogenic face or the personality that draws you in. I’m not the one that makes you stop what you’re doing and stare at, because I’m not the one with the physical beauty you desire.

I’m the cream, but she’s the sugar. And even though you insist you like your coffee black, we all know that everyone has a little sweet tooth.

Here’s how life works. You think you have all your balls in their pockets, with just the eight ball left. But then you scratch the white ball and you’re out of the game, and you watch her win while you stand there, scratched, without a chance. TC mark

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