I lie to myself every time I see you and feel the butterflies dancing in my tummy. I lie to myself every time my heart sinks into my stomach when I see another girl talking to you. I lie to myself every time a smile lights up my face when you reply to my mundane texts. I lie to myself every time you take my hand and I mutter under my breath how badly I wish you would never let go. I lie to myself every time I get a headrush from you simply saying that you miss me.
I want to tell you that I love you—that somewhere between the trolling and the Rick-rolling and the soft, shy kisses and the warm, unexpected cuddling, somewhere between my hissy fits and your confused indifference, I fell in love with you. That you stole my heart and I let you. That the thought of losing you now brings tears to my eyes. That this roller coaster is worth it. Everyday, I want to pour my heart out and tell you that my heart beats for you.
But I don’t.
Because I’m terrified. I’m so scared that if and when I finally gather the courage to tell you, it won’t matter. That you’ll leave anyway, and I’ll be left with this gaping hole in my heart where you were supposed to stay, for always.
But what am I supposed to do?
Without you, I’m torn. I’m okay, and I manage; I’m happy, even. But I’m always waiting… for a text, a call, an email—anything to let me know that you’re thinking about me too. I manage, yeah, and unlike before, I actually get through a day without worrying about you, but if I could only tell you just how it is that you make me feel…
I wish you could see my face the moment your name shows up on my screen. I wish you could feel how fast my heart beats the moment you say “Hello”. I wish you could see the dumbstruck look on my face the moment we say goodbye and the call ends.
I’m sorry if I’m being overwhelming; if I’m being too much. We carry such heavy burdens—we who decide to be more than friends, but not quite lovers. It’s so hard to know when you aren’t giving enough, or just right, or too much. It’s so hard to not have that reassurance, the consistency, the promise that you can wake up the next day and not worry about being alone.
We seize the day. We live in the moment. You do what you want and I assure you that it doesn’t matter--what happens happens—but the truth is, I’ve been wishing for the same thing for the past I-forget-how-long: that you’ll stay.
I don’t want to be scared anymore.
I might not have the guts to tell you just yet, but please know that it’s always at the tip of my tongue. Always. Every goodbye is followed by an awkward silence where I could very easily sneak an unexpected, "I love you" (which would then be followed by an even more awkward silence caused by you not saying “I love you” back). Every "I miss you," and "You make me happy," and "That really made me smile," and "I really care about you," is just another "I love you" in disguise.
One of these days, they’ll strip off their masks, just as I’ll strip off mine.
And one of these days, I’ll gather enough courage to tell you that I love you.
I love you.
One of these days.
Originally published on Tumblr on Dec 21st 2011