I hate that I like her
cause i don’t know what my friends would think
especially since her friends mess with my friends,
I hate that I like her
cause I don’t think she likes me,
I hate that I like her
cause my past relationships,
it’s not her fault but
that’s what everyone says,
I hate that I like her
cause what if it does work out and I mess it up,
or what if I make things awkward,
I hate that I like her
cause what if it does ruined the way she sees me,
or what if she never talks to me at all,
or what if she embarrassed me
by telling her friends,
I hate that I like her
cause what if her friends
mess with her cause of me.
I hate that I like her.

I don’t know how to say this,
but I think I’ve been holding it in too long
I love the nerves.
The way my heart races when you’re near,
how I can’t find the right words,
how I smile too fast,
then look away too slow.

I love the way you laugh,
and how I forget how to breathe
when you catch my eye.
I hate how quiet I get,
like there’s something too big in my chest
to let out.

I’ve been scared to speak,
scared of what it would mean,
but I guess this is me trying,
even if it’s messy.

—You Know Who

You were three feet away.
Back to me,
close enough to reach
but I didn’t.
I couldn’t.

The letter was there,
pressed flat in my hoodie pocket.
The one I rewrote too many times
and still got wrong.

You were just sitting there,
doing whatever it is you do,
and I was watching you like an idiot,
thinking maybe this could be something
if I just gave it to you.

But I didn’t.
Even when you said,
“You got this.”
Even when your voice
was the only thing
keeping me steady in goal.

I wanted to give it to you
after that last game.
Or the day you looked at me
like maybe you knew.
Like maybe you felt it too.

I don’t even know what I was waiting for
a sign?
a moment?
You?

Now it’s just sitting there,
crumpled a little at the edges,
ink smudged where I held it too tight.
You’ll never read it.
And you’ll never know
how much I meant
every word I never said

Life doesn’t ask if you’re ready.
It just moves
pushing,pulling
quiet sometimes,
and loud the rest
and you’re supposed to keep up.
We’ve been told to figure it out
what’s next
who we are
what to say when everybody’s watching
and we’re not sure if the person they see
is even the real us
The tests we were supposed to ace,
the friends were supposed to keep,
the future we were supposed to know
like it’s all already planed.
But it’s not.
We’re still learning.
Still figuring it out
Some days,
It felt like everyone had it all together,
and we were the only ones

 who didn’t get the memo on how to live this life.

How to look happy when we’re not,

how to keep up when we’re falling behind.
And then there’s her

she’s not the loudest,

but her energy fills up space
in a way
 that makes your heart beat faster.

The way she moves,

like everything just comes naturally to her,

like she’s always calm,

like nothing ever rattles her,

and you can’t help but wonder

how she does it.
When she walks by,

it’s like time slows down

you catch yourself looking
 before you can stop,

and suddenly,

everything seems a little brighter
 when she’s near.
It’s not just her smile 
or the way she talks,

it’s how she makes you feel

like you might be the only one in the room

that doesn’t know

how she’s so perfect
 without even trying.
The letter sits 
unread
,
unfolded,

but not unwritten.

And maybe that’s how life is sometimes

a collection of almosts 
 we carry with us

until we can’t carry them anymore.
And I don’t know if this page

holds anything more
 than the weight of what I haven’t said,

but I’m tired of waiting
for something to change
 on its own.
So I turn the page.

Not because I’m ready,

but because I know
 nothing will happen if I don’t.
And maybe,
just maybe,

this is where the real story begins.

You’re just an arms length away,
but saying something out loud feels impossible.
Everyone’s talking,doing there’s own thing,
and im stuck here,
wondering if you notice me the way I notice you
You told me,
“It’s okay”
like it was nothing
but it wasn’t.
Not to me.
I wrote you a letter.
Folded it.
Unfolded it.
Reread it ten times.
The words felt to loud on paper
I wrote
“I like you”
I tried to make it sound casual,
but it wasn’t.
It was real.
I told you about your foot in my face,
Cause it made you laugh once.
I told you you’re smart and funny and a
genuinely good person
because you are.
I said I admire you
for how you handled everything
with your ex
and how brave you were
when coming out wasn’t even your choice,
I tried to say thank you
for being one of the reasons
I actually like being around
I almost didn’t write it.
I said that too
But I kept thinking
you deserve to know.
Even if you tell someone,
Even if it makes things weird.
I said “Im the gay girl who overthinks everything”
and I am
That part,at least,felt easy.
Everything else
Is still sitting in my hands.
All on paper
Still waiting to be read

I hate that I like her
cause I start overthinking everything.
Like did she mean that smile?
Or was it just nothing?
I hate that I like her
cause I replay moments
that probably meant more to me than her.

I hate that I like her
cause I get hopeful when she’s nice,
then confused when she pulls back.
I hate that I like her
cause she makes me feel soft
in a world where I’m supposed to be tough.

I hate that I like her
cause it’s easier to pretend I don’t.
Easier to joke, easier to lie
than to admit she’s the reason
I catch my breath in the hallway.

I hate that I like her.

I used to run with reckless grace,
Before I learned to hide my face.
You see me now, but can't you see
I was someone you'd never meet.

I chased the sun, I danced in rain,
Before the world taught me the pain.
You watch from far, not close enough,
To see the girl who wasn’t tough.

If you had known me back in time,
Would you have stayed, or thought me fine?
But now I’m lost in all this noise
The girl I was is just a voice