If I could, I would tell you how much I genuinely admire you.
I would tell you how strong I think you are. How smart I know you are. How courageous. How heart-achingly beautiful.
If I could, I would tell you how, each day, I think about you, and hope that wherever you are, you are healthy and happy and successful.
If I could, I would tell you how, more than anything, I would love to be your friend, as I think you would make a totally awesome, incredible, amazing friend. And how I’d also love to go out on a date with you, to get to know you. The real you. Because I think you’re the prettiest Girl I’ve ever seen and how, no, I’m not above being totally and hopelessly attracted to you like I have never ever been to anyone else and how I know that I could never hope to be.
And if I could, I would tell you it was because when I saw you that first time, I knew. I just knew. How it hit me like a thunderbolt that day that my life wouldn’t–couldn’t–be complete if I didn’t make every last effort to try to get to know you. Even if it was just in the stupid ways I only knew how to come up with.
If I could, I would tell you how much I’d love to gaze into your eyes, just once. To make my heart feel better, for being right about you.
If I could, I would tell you how my mind struggles with my heart every single day, my brain knowing I should move on from what is a hopeless dream, my heart screaming, “please NOOOO, don’t!”
If I could, I would tell you how many times I’ve wanted to ‘friend’ you. Or message you. Or find some way of letting you know how I feel about you.
But I can’t.
Because I am scared. I am scared of what I know you must think. Of me. Of people like me.
I am scared of finding out the truth.
I am scared of my dream ending.