Again, you caught me by surprise. I looked ahead and I saw you. Even your shadow was enough, even without a smile, to make my whole world stop. I caught myself in a moment, when I realized that you were there. I knew you were going to be there, I knew I was going to see you, but somehow I never readied myself for the moment.
You were busy, and I was busy, and I just pretended to be too busy to stop and talk to you. But in a fleeting moment, I said hi, and you said hi, and we went about our own ways. I was too much of a coward to stop and actually talk to you. Cause why would I do that? It's not like we're good friends. We just know each other. We've worked together, sure, but we never really got to interact directly.
Hours later, I force myself to go to where you are, wanting for a chance to see you again. I see you and I pretend to do something close to where you were sitting. You don't notice me. I lose courage and leave again.
Then, standing in defeat meters from where you are, I remember all my missed opportunities and that mantra I learned a month before: it's better to say too much, than never say what you need to say.
So I pick myself up, and nervously walk to where you are again. I get there. You're still there. I do the same thing I did just a few minutes prior, take in a gulp, then walk towards you.
I say hi. I mutter aimless words, nonsense thoughts, pleasantries that probably don't mean a thing. It was the most awkward two minutes I've had in a long time. And at the risk of making a complete idiot of myself, I was happy at just being able to talk to you.
I don't even remember what I was saying. All I know was that I was looking at you and was totally distracted by how beautiful you were, but not just in the way that beauty is prescribed by popular culture. More than that. Your beauty emanates from your whole being and strikes through to my core.
I looked at you--as I continued to babble like an idiot--and I spoiled myself in all the beautiful little details of your face: the little creases around your mouth and cheeks that form when you talk, the shape of your lips, the slight difference between how your eyes seem to smile and stare, the dorkiness of your spectacles, the fairness of your skin, the way your hair falls on your face, how I can never really tell if you're smiling or giving a sarcastic pout, how I don't know what you're thinking by the way you look at me, the depth, contentment, and emptiness in your eyes, the tenderness and vulnerability in your demeanor, every little detail.
I am a fool. But at least I got to talk to you. And I firmly believe that it is infinitely better to be a fool and have talked to you than to just write about you. It's better that you think I'm weird, or am a dork, or that I'm a clueless, helpless, little boy with a giant crush. At least I would have made a tiny imprint in your life.
It seems like I'll be seeing more of you and I am praying for more opportunities to be with you. If we could be better friends, I would already be eternally grateful.
There really are people who are just pure magic. You are one of those people. I hope that one day, I'll end up with someone like you.
