I secretly keep a list of all the kindest things you've said to me, those things which warmed my heart and made me feel special. I know it's stupid and maybe even a little creepy, but I have this horrible habit of doubting people's intentions, their faithfulness. I know that if I can pull out my little book of your sweet nothings and read a few, I can be reminded that this suspicion and doubt is all in my head, and that you do care.

It's you. It's you all the time. It's you at 2 AM when I'm balancing on the tightrope between consciousness and slumber, it's you at 3PM when school just gets out and I rush to our place on the last bench to the right nearby the theater, it's you at 6PM while I'm staring down at my dinner, rearranging my peas or rice grains to look like your name. It's such a shame how you don't notice the extended glances I send you during class, and the sheepish smiles and flushes that follow when you catch me. I know I'm only a teenager with a thousand metaphors for this so-called "love", but it gives me a tingling sensation of pins and needles that replaces the numbness that used to linger beneath my skin in a way that only you could trigger. I know you don't feel the same because of the way you look at her. Maybe, just maybe, if I had her figure, or her hair, or her smile, or the cute freckles that resemble constellations as shown in her brown eyes. Maybe if I had her sense of humor, or her laugh, or her ability to carry on a conversation without any holes between my speech. I have no idea what love is, but the way you make me feel is exactly how warmth in a bitter cold winter feels, no matter how much I'm imagining that loving heat. But what if there's something greater buried beneath these useless metaphors and awkward first impressions? What if there's something more that chocolate waterfall hair, or stars littered across cheeks and irises? I'll learn eventually. Not this time. Not next time. Not the time after that. Hopefully, I learn not to fall in love with boys who don't love boys, like me. Maybe I'll learn not to fall in love with boys that like cute galaxy freckles and long hair. Not to fall in love with boys that like girls smaller than them with tiny waists. I'll learn, eventually. But until I learn, I'll binge on the little attention you give me now.

-The boy you don't look at twice.

Three of the four pillows on the bed we picked out together are mine--two for you, two for me.

There are two water glasses beside the picture of us on the nightstand--one for you, one for me.

Two toothbrush heads for the electric toothbrush on the bathroom counter--one for you, one for me.

Two towels hang on the hook on the bedroom door--the light blue one for you, and the dark blue one for me.

My coffee maker sits next to your hot chocolate on the kitchen counter. The saucepan I bought you and the cast-iron skillet you bought me are on the stove.

I cook dinner for us, and you make omlettes for breakfast.

Domesticity's not boring when you're making home with someone you love.

So you know that scene in "500 Days of Summer" where Joseph Gordon-Levitt is dancing in the streets to that super catchy Hall and Oats song and everything is right in the world and the sun shines a little bit brighter and there's only love in the world? Right. Well I made you laugh today, and I felt like that.

It's really weird to me that your smile makes me want to dance to catchy 80's music, but I mean I guess there could be worse things, you know?

one day this will

all make sense

It really is the little things you come to appreciate. The way their nostrils flare as they laugh. Or the way the sunlight makes their eyes sparkle and causes their eyelashes to cast thin, spidery shadows down their cheeks. Or how when you lay there holding each other you can feel their heart speed up. Don't focus on the big things but rather the small things. They are what you end unconsciously remembering even after time has passed

I've been crushing on a boy for 5 years and we hardly know each other. I've caught him staring at me over the years, but I was always to afraid to say anything because I'm really shy and I get extra nervous. Everytime I've ever made eye contact it's like this heavenly magical feeling that tingles on the inside of me and I know deep down in my soul that he feels the same when we make eye contact. How can I break out of my shell and talk to him without making it awkward? And is it too late after 5 years?

You smiling at me is like an avid reader finding out their favorite book is actually part of trilogy.

See I look at you like you put the stars in the night sky and dedicated them to me.

Like you discovered the cure for cancer and said you couldn't have done the all-nighters without my trips to Starbucks.

Like every little daydream I have on the car ride home will happen one day.

However when you look at me I'm fairly certain you asking what the Chem homework was isn't a ploy so you will hear my voice. It's you asking for a favor from a friend. So while you put the stars in my sky, I only tell you what yours looks like. 


It's really hard trusting that I'll meet you when the time is right. I mean it's hard enough believing that "someone out there was made for you", but trying to believe that somehow a combination of the stars alligning mixed with the product of our achievements/failures, and sheer luck is going to make the perfect union come together? That's even harder to believe.

I hope that you're out there and you're trying to find your way to me. I also hope you're not doing anything too stupid, because I'm going to need you alive if we're going to make this whole madly in love thing work. Mostly I just hope you're happy though. 

I can't wait until we meet.