He was so beautiful.
Not the kind of beautiful you saw in the pictures of magazines, or even like the boys on TV.
He was different. He didn't need to brush his hair, or go to the gym everyday, or think about what he was going to eat because none of that would matter. He'd still be beautiful.
He didn't see it. But somehow, that made him so much more beautiful.
And I wanted him to know it so badly, how much he meant to me, but I wouldn't say a word. I couldn't say a word.
He was so beautiful.
And the thing about it was he would never know, because no one ever really knew. It was like everyone was mesmerized, but they weren't sure why, so they just walked away.
He was beautiful.
And one day I'll get the guts to tell him, but it'll be too late. He'll probably already know. Someone will finally tell him that he's beautiful, and they'll take his breath away. They'll take his breath away like the sight of a shooting star, or your very first kiss, or like that very first time that you realize you're in love. They'll take his breath away, like the very first time he took my breath away. Like the very first time I laid my eyes upon him; like a knife straight to my throat.
And he'll be beautiful.
And it will be different because he'll know that someone in this world finds him beautiful. The whole world should find him beautiful, but it will only take that one person to let him know. And it will take his breath away.

And it will be too late.