I promised not to write about him because then my feelings would flourish. Now they’ll grow and grow and lift to the sky as far as they can, like smoke from some lonely camp-fire. It’ll lift high, above of the rooftops screaming for them to notice. Them. Anyone. Everyone.
And I just know this can be the greatest mistake I’ve done so far. But it’s just that… when I look at him, his eyes shine and glimmer as if reflecting the moon. His voice lulls me and softens my heart. My soul. With every tone of its melody.

His smile, never fails to brighten my day no matter how obscure this day may have begun. His hair falls perfectly, but with the right amount of imperfections. Reminding me that he is also human.

His face. His features. BEG to be described. And who else is better for the job than me? That girl who spends her days admiring them. That girl who has escaped from her pen and pencil for far too long. That girl who doesn’t care anymore. Who isn’t afraid to fall for him.
But I guess I’m far too… Weak

Too weak to realize that my stupid damn feelings are already inflating like a balloon. Waiting to be popped. Waiting to be disappointed. And my stupid damn heart will never listen, and will always fall for that guy who never notices. That guy who’s on the top shelf of my kitchen counter. Inaccessible in so many ways.

And my own eyes are too damn stubborn to understand they have to follow my orders. They cannot wander around to meet his, every minute. Every second. Every instance.

My thoughts are way too cloudy and distant for me to come up with an intelligent solution. A war is going on in there. I know it. My brain doesn’t want him to like me. My heart needs him to function properly. Whom should I listen to?

Damn! No! Not that cliché and stupid paragraph again!

I can’t do this any longer! I’d better forget him. But how can I?

He’s exactly the one who has helped me through all those rough times when I couldn’t figure a way out of my labyrinth of misery. He’s exactly the one who made me laugh and smile at the right moments. He’s exactly the first one who ever told me I’m beautiful. The first one I actually believed.

And every time I consider forgetting him, that cheesy line appears. Over and over again. As if glued to my forehead.

How will I survive without him by my side?

My obscure days will remain obscure. My ears will starve without their melody. The glimmer left in my eyes will go away, and leave them vacant. Waiting. Waiting for someone that’ll never come back.

He will never come back. And I think it would have been easier if he never had come in the first place.