I know I'm not as pretty or funny, or smart as those other girls, but I can be the one who hands over your glasses to you when we're 60; I can be the joke or that video that makes you laugh every single time; I can be the one who makes you smile when you're shattered; I can be your calculator, solving your complex problems; I can be the one who helps you find solutions when you're lost. I know I'm not and will never be good enough, but I promise one day I'll be more than enough for you because at the end all that matters to me now and will continue to be is you, only you. Your smile makes me feral, you're eyes make me sink in the ocean it holds behind, the way your voice sounds as if it is honey, the little glances I pass to you hoping you would notice, how I casually try to get out of the class at the same time you do and still, still you wonder who is your happy ending, isn't it clear that I'm the one who adores you, cares for you, loves you, trusts you blindly?
Oh my, yet-to-be lover, this hopeless, clumsy, way different than perfect, just not beautiful as others, wants to be the only one who gets to love you as if you don't have any flaws.
