I guess there’s this part of me that hates every aspect of what you are. You are the definition of what I want and look for. Sometimes, it’s painful to think that those many girls out there look at you and think of you the same way I do. They see you as someone who is nearly irreplaceable. Someone who gives them hope and love just by being alive. Yet, I found myself going absolutely crazy for you.
I want to be the reason of your cry because you’re laughing too hard. And I want your grumpy morning attitude. I want your sleepy morning voice, that gives me chills everytime. Sometimes, I’d like to imagine us curled up in bed, pretending to watch a movie when really we’re stealing glances at each other because it’s ridiculous that we found each other.
I want your arms wrapped around my waist when you feel threatened by someone else. I want your eyes to look at me and they constantly give off the little sparkle they have.
I have painted this stupid image in my mind that you are my safe place, my home. Maybe it’s not stupid. Maybe it’s what’s keeping me sane and breathing right now. You do these little things everyday, and not realizing how much it affects me. Sometimes, I think I’m the only one feeling that way. But that’s silly.
Thousand of girls feel the same way, think the same way, wishing that some way, life will take a dramatic turn and maybe, just maybe, they’ll end up with a happily ever after. With you.
A piece of me thinks that I owe you my life because the slightest curve of smile that your lips made can keep me happy for days. And that’s what I don’t understand.
Love is “always wanting them to be happy and doing everything in your power to keep them happy” right? But this time, it’s twisted. I want you to be happy and you want me to be happy, but not in the same way. I want you to be happy and I want you to smile. I give you my everything, my heart.
But what did I get back? All I get back is a reassuring smile. And somehow I’ve convinced my broken heart to believe that you mean it with your whole heart. After everything is over: the girls, the fame, the fun, the youthful age, the music. Maybe then you’ll realized all I gave up for you.
And what makes this all completely over-the-top mad is that I wouldn’t trade this obsession I’ve got for everything. And when someone asked me, “Why?” I don’t think I could explain why; simply because they would never understand and they don’t even care. But you care, or at least that’s what I told myself.