There seems to be an ever-growing sense of emptiness inside of me lately. Sure, it can be filled temporarily with the company of my closest friends and dearest family, but soon after, the emptiness re-emerges from the depth of my gut, churning my stomach and distracts me so bad that I feel lifeless. It’s not the looming exams that is bothering me. I’ve been through that a countless number of times, till I’ve become numb towards it. No, this is different. You are different.
I’m not one to spill my heart out onto a public platform like this but like I said, you are different. I’m constantly looking for the trigger for my predicament and trust me, I’ve played the last few months over and over again in my head right to the night where I first met you, again. Sitting across from you, I was more focused on my plate of food than the conversations we were having because hell, I was starving. I started paying more attention to you once my stomach was filled and yet, I disagree that listening to you was the trigger. We parted ways and I felt comforted, knowing that you and I are perfect. Perfectly good friends.
Somehow, in just a few weeks, I find myself waking up regularly to your selfies and texts. It never fails to brighten my day instantly. I’ve never felt so refreshed and energetic to face the world. I began to constantly check my phone, waiting impatiently for your texts. Your conversations were the only ones in mind now. Congratulations, you’ve got my attention.
Opening up to you leaves me vulnerable. I’ve shared things with you that even my closest friends do not know. And you shared with me your aspirations, and dreams. Fickle-minded you are. But that’s what makes you different. And for once in a long long time, I thought to myself, this is only going to bring me misery.
I don’t need to tell you that you’re pretty, you already know that. You’re so amazingly confident, yet the little doubts you have about yourself makes you more mysterious. You’re so focused in creating your future, yet your fickle mindedness excites me. Your little outbursts of profanities, although indecent, reminds me that you’re not afraid of showing your feelings. Congratulations again, you’ve got my attention.
Despite all these feelings, I find the need for myself to apologize for them. I didn’t mean to have them. It happened. You happened. The purpose of this post isn’t for me to confess. No, I hope you never read this at all. Even if you do, I hope you don’t realize that it’s you. It’s because I know as soon as I publish this post, a huge weight will be lifted from my chest and the feeling of despair should subside. Why? I need you, but really I don’t. I want you, but really I can’t. I love you, but really I shan’t. To love is to be vulnerable, and that’s exactly what I’m becoming. We’re like fire and gasoline. You’re no good for me, and I’m definitely no good for you. I’m sorry but you and I are perfect…perfect as friends.