Why him?01 Nov, 2011 10:58 PM
I see you at school, Armida. The days I don't see you I still feel rather empty, for the mere sight of you is enough for my comfort. You have such an amazing natural pull; I feel as though I need to talk to you, but I can't. I'm too shy, and you display no interest in me.
Once when I was headed for class I saw you and you saw me. I looked at you with a passion to converse and tell you how fascinated I am by you, and you looked at me instinctively; and that was a huge thing for me. Your casual look absolutely accepting for me. It made my entire week. You have no idea.
I was happy. School, because of you, appeared fun and exciting. Every time I sat at my table I would see you pass by on your way to get food. I always stared at you until you completely were out of my sight, telling my friends about you, to which they would reply, "Get over her," or "She's not that hot." But it isn't your looks, I've seen prettier girls, not that you're not pretty. You're lovely, so lovely.
Then, one day, I was in front of the gym. I was with two friends laughing and enjoying our conversation. . . until I saw you talking very happily and excitedly to some guy.
Boom, my heart and head began to ache. The conversation I was just holding seemed super unimportant compared to you talking to another guy that I dropped it quite abruptly and fell in complete silence. I was dying inside. My mouth went dry. My hands were rather trembling. My body felt as though it was experiencing fatigue. I looked down and tried to get myself together, which seemed feckless and far-fetched at that point, for I couldn't bear you talking to another guy. I wanted you merely for me and for me only. I looked back up in hope of the termination of your conversation with him. But, of course, it was hopeless; you were hugging him with in such a comfortable manner; I couldn't take it. Your hands were touching him with such delicateness and he toched you the precise way; and the worst part of all is that you allowed it. You allowed him to touch you, which made me feel crushed even more, for this meant one thing, and one thing only: you like him. :(
"Let's go buy something," I suggested to my buddies, not having money nor wanting anything at all. I just wanted Armida. But she didn't want me, she wanted him. Him. . .
"Where?" my friend asked.
"Wherever. Let's just leave now," I rather demanded.
As we were walking to an ice-creamm truck, I still felt very ill. I looked back at her, Armida, and she was looking at the guy dead in the eye with a divine smile coupled with a great deal of flirtatiousness. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
I am now typing this while her Facebook page on another tab is open. I read all of her statuses and review her pictures to the point of knowing each and every comment people have posted. I am unbelievably jealous, envious of the guy who is talking to her. I wish with all my power that I could be him.
Armida, if only you knew how great I would treat you :) I would provide all the love in my heart, the goodness in me, and my supposed humor. I would relish making you laugh just to see that piquant smile of yours. Hopefully something happens between us very soon. My life would be complete. I feel it. XOXOXOXOXO.