I know you read my blog, G.

The saddest thing is that I see you almost every day, and we have the best relationship. A year ago, it wasn’t like that. We were classmates for the first time, and we were still trying to see if we can get along. We did, we all did. Especially you and me.

We talk about everything, no holds barred. I guess it was that night that you were begging me to take you away from someone, and I did all that I could to make it happen. When I wasn’t able to do it because of circumstances we both know we can’t change, you looked at me and smiled sadly. An oxymoron, I know. I know you too, very well. I understand completely what you were  trying to say. I’m still very sorry, and I know that night damaged you.

After that, I took the plunge. I had no choice, I was swimming against a current I couldn’t fight.

Our days are numbered. Pretty soon, we’ll be saying goodbye to the place that brought us together. Would we do anything about it? I don’t know.

Every day’s a missed connection. Speaking in tongues foreign to us so we don’t let anyone on. Hiding it in plain sight. You always finding a way to sit next to me, me always craving for the moment our naked skin touch. Just a little slap from your hands, a bumping of arms and then never separating, making it look like our chairs are too close to each other.

We seldom find ourselves alone, but when we do, we absolutely do nothing about it. It infuriates me how we never find the perfect words to say to each other, but I guess our actions are loud enough.

We were together for the longest time today, and we still didn’t say anything. We hide our intentions with the silliest excuses.

We both know what we want. All I want to know is, do we really need words to make it real?

I don’t want to regret not acting upon this, so here goes:

I really, really like you. So much that I’m  imagining us cuddling during a rainy morning. You do these things that send me spiraling into a frenzy of feelings that I actually like. You pinch my arms when you’re nervous, and it makes me feel quite special. It makes me feel normal. You find the weirdest and best ways to say I look pretty every day. You give me little knickknacks, each one of them bearing a memory.You and I don’t do things normal, and it keeps me sane.

I gotta tell you, you are making me nervous in a way I am not really familiar with.

So, hi.


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