i lie to myself and to the people around me about how much i really like him. how much i just like to look at him sometimes, like the way he moves is an artform. how much i like the way his eyes scrunch up when he smiles and the dimple on his cheek. sometimes, i just want to touch his hair or his face or hold his hand or hug him. it's awkward and i hate it and i suppress it and say that i'm fine but i'm not fine. i will be sitting in a restaurant across from him and all i want to do is kiss him. to reach across the empty expanse of the table and kiss him.
i know that he doesn't feel the same way that i do. i know he likes her, not me. i know he has flaws and imperfections and needs to grow up and i know next to nothing about him, but i honestly can't help the way i feel. and it's starting to overwhelm me to the point where i don't know if i can keep it contained any more. and this is the whole truth of the matter.
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