My clock says it’s 11:23 pm. I’m still staring blankly at this page for quite a time now. I’ve been trying to organize my thoughts but it seems like I can’t even think straight at all.

You see, I’ve been wanting to tell you something but I do not even have a bit of courage to do so. I’ve been pulling myself together in mustering all the guts I have in me to say a few things to you. The thing though is, the mere thought of doing so knocks me down so bad and I’m yet again, back to square one.  Damn, I never knew it would be this hard.

I don’t really know what’s holding me back. Whenever I feel that that certain moment of bravery has come, to my dismay, I always end up losing my train of thought. I have missed so many opportunities that I’m starting to get annoyed with my self for being so weak when you’re around. My mind is now filled with doubts if I really have to do it.  Do I really have to do it, you say? Well, I’m not quite sure either. All I know is that not being able to express my feelings to you makes me uneasy. These, these wonderful feelings you’re making me feel, I cannot contain them. I have to let them out and I want you to hear them out.

The uncertainty has always been there. Maybe that’s what the old ones meant when they say things about taking risks, that an ounce of courage and faith will certainly do wonders. But maybe, somewhere deep inside me, I am afraid to bet on my chances because I already know what will happen if I do so. I already know. I know that trying wouldn’t make much of a difference. That’s probably the reason why I’m holding back for years now. That’s what probably keeps me from telling you how much I have grown to love you.

I know that you won’t like me back for I was never your type. I know that you have this ‘thing’ for girls who dress up well and carry themselves confidently. Well, that’s just not me, as you have known. Truth be told, you weren’t my type either. You don’t seem to be the ideal guy that I have always imagined all along. But there’s something in you, something so ineffable that it keeps on pulling me towards you.

You are you. The whole you is filled with so much sincerity and kindness. You have tolerated my bursts of weirdness and my interest for completely mundane things. Your cheerfulness never failed to brighten my day. Your mere presence brings warmth in me and I always feel at home whenever I’m with you. I have loved every single thing about you.

It was hard then, when it came to a point when my heart has started to expect for some reciprocation. So for precautions, what I did, I put a little trick on it, by convincing myself that there will never be a ‘you and I’ and that I will just make use of the elating feelings that you bring to me for my own consumption. That’s just it. Well, that’s what supposedly it only is. But my silly heart has betrayed me and has demanded for more. I then grew fonder of you. I wanted more of you.

There sprung a little hope in me that if I try to become like those girls that you would typically like, you would somehow notice me.  So I have educated myself on how to put on good make-up, on how to dress up well, on how to carry interesting conversations, and to some extent, on how to flirt with the guys. But in the end, after all these efforts, you just didn’t see me as someone you would ask out for a date. That realization hit me down to the core and nearly broke me into pieces.

I have learned to become contented with what we are now after what had happened. But if you ask me, my feelings for you still remained despite knowing how little my chances are of you liking me.  I then thought of confronting you once and for all. You may have a tangible and better idea of what I want you to know if I would voice out everything directly. But up until now, I cannot get a good grip of myself to do it. I cannot. And I hate it. I hate my self for falling in love with you and yet I cannot do anything about it.

I asked, “Would there be any difference this time if I do so?”  I heard my heart saying, “Actually, there’s none.”


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