I have never been more curious of what someone thought about me. It’s currently driving me out of sleep. I have true thoughts, and wholehearted feelings; but they’re translated into speechless, petrified, helplessly misguided actions. Left turned it off, but right left it on hibernate. And I just don’t know how to be myself when I really am scared that I’m completely in the wrong. The paradox is that the more I understand that it’s just infatuation, the more I feel she could understand me and that there’s something there, that I’m not the only one who can see it, because she sees it too.
But how can I begin to hope for someone that would care for me as much as I would inevitably care for, if we do not feel naturally at home with each other, if the attraction is not mutual, if the friendship is impossible, if a conversation can’t survive my remarkable awkward first impressions, if glances that can’t be helped are ripped too quickly, if infatuation won’t let me be and her mystery won’t let her tell, if she won’t respond, if I can’t even say hello, If she turns away, If I’m too afraid to smile.
No, I cannot begin to hope, I have not begun to hope; I honestly am too afraid to smile, she has turned away, and so I cannot say hello, because she won’t really respond; because infatuation becomes awkwardness and she is coy, and so our eyes flee when they inexplicably run into each other, then texts let alone a real conversation between us are too off and dreadful, so friendship is unattainable, and attraction is left one sided, thus we won’t find a home in each other, and we never care for each other.
have a near defining factor in ever aspect of our lives, our choices, our thoughts, our wants, our happiness and sadness.
Everyone is wired to abide by these limits; it just comes down to how aware we are of them and more importantly, how badly we want to break them.