I liked you before we met. When I first saw a picture of you, I liked you. Then, when we finally met, and I heard your voice, and saw your smile in person, I liked you even more. You seemed friendly enough, and the liking grew. Then I got to feeling like I was reading into things too much. I didn’t talk to you for a long time.
When I thought I was over you, I got that message. You of all people asked me to come to game night. You of all people made me really feel like I was wanted somewhere. After that, the liking for you grew. I talked to you, and you talked back. I invited you to my place for game night, and although you couldn’t make it, you were still nice to me. My liking for you grew.
You made me more outgoing, and I felt more confident. You put a spring in my step. I was able to get through my days in a good mood. I felt like things were finally going my way; this was my year.
It was becoming obvious that you didn’t feel the same way when you stopped liking my posts. I should have known right away, but I refused to believe that I was going down a road I’d been down so many times before. I didn’t want to think that you would be the same as all the other girls I’ve liked. I still don’t want to believe it.
I kept asking if you were going to game nights, and you always had other things going on. That’s fine. I understand. But after a while, you didn’t apologize anymore, and your messages got shorter, and you only said what you absolutely had to.
You are the one that I like, and I think I will always like you. Nothing will change that. I just wish that we talked more. I wish that you would message me first from time to time. I know that the next time we see each other, I’ll fall for you all over again.
The problem is me. I am too scared to admit how I feel. I can’t just ask you to hang out. I can’t just tell you that I like you. I know you don’t feel the same way, and that is holding me back. I know I will be rejected, but I am still afraid of it. I just don’t want to mess anything up. I don’t want to lose my friendship to you, or to your brother. I guess I will just keep wishing, and hoping that maybe someday you will feel the same way about me that I feel about you.
You won’t though. You don’t think of me, spend time worrying about me, caring about me. And that is fine. If you are happy, then that’s ok. You don’t need me, and I need to accept that.