I can’t tell if I’m more upset with you or myself for what you do to me. Everything is a mess, but it also seems so right. Fuck, we’re not even dating, but I still feel your pull like the tides do the moon. We haven’t held hands, aside from the times we ran across the busy highway, interlocking our fingers as we raced. We’ve never cuddled, aside from the night I was too drunk to realize that I shouldn’t allow myself to fall so easily into your arms. We’ve never kissed, aside from the ones placed lightly on each others’ foreheads before drifting off side-by-side in a cramped bed. You see, I have no reason to feel like this. I have no reason to think of twining my fingers through your hair. I have no reason to think of kissing along your jaw. I have no reason to think of the way your hands felt on my hips as you pulled me in for a hug. I have no reason to feel like I’m melting every time you call me by my entire first name. For years it’s always made me feel as if I was a joke to anyone who wasn’t my family. The way it seems to roll so effortlessly off your tongue makes me forget all of the mispronunciations and jeers. It makes me feel more at home than I have in years, and it scares the shit out of me. I don’t want to lose you, and I’m scared that if I tell you, everything will be over. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t let you go. I know I could never really make you happy, so I won’t even try. I can handle staying like this, because at least we’ll still be best friends. Like this I can still be by your side. I can still laugh and joke with you. I can still watch you find happiness, even if it isn’t with me.
pg.18
