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Please don’t be another unrequited love story
Please don’t be another unrequited love story. I have enough of those. Written by my own hand; every time I backed down, every time I didn’t say how I felt and pretended I was happy being friends instead. I lost every shot I didn’t take, but somehow convinced myself that heartbreak by my own hand wasn’t really heartbreak.
I have enough of those written by shy boys who thought I was too different and feared what others would say about us, about them, if we were to go out. They gave me compliments like secrets. They suggested more study sessions than we could ever need, exquisite excuses to exist in the same space. They sought me out at parties, watched me dance with my friends. They told me I looked great out there. One hand lingering on my arm as if to keep me by their side, and then a friendly push with a blush, half-hidden in the dark. A half-hearted: “go, go have fun”. They walked me home after every happy hour, only to leave me on the doorstep with a hasty hug.
I have enough of those from guys that didn’t know what they were looking for. My texts were like random trinkets on a scavenger hunt: sometimes kept in a pocket, sometimes tossed aside, seldom properly replied. They reacted to my stories with bright red hearts, they sent selfies from their coffee…
