Instagram Crush

I was halfway through writing a scene with zombies, blood everywhere and a protagonist who is crying over his injured dog, when you knocked on my minds door.

So I looked up from the laptop, stretched my neck, and turned to stare at my closed bedroom door. And you are standing there, handing me a cup of coffee, with a huge grin on your face. You are in a shirt and trousers- the ones I saw you wear in your latest instagram post. And then I imagine you reading what I have written, and correcting it, and laughing at parts even I thought was stupid, but did not know how to write better.

You are here.

Your eyes, your smile, your stature.

But in reality, you are not.

You have just caught me day-dreaming, and decided to become part of it.

You have this habit of intruding my thoughts- coming into it while I'm studying a difficult topic for exams, making me lose track and think of what we could do if you were here. Or intruding it when I'm angry at something stupid someone does, and making fun of them with me. Or visiting me when I'm about to sleep. Or when I'm out with friends, and we're eating something delicious, and I think, "Oh, how I wish I could share this with you!" And then, I take a picture and post it on instagram, not forgetting to tag the location, hoping that you'd try it someday, too.

Yes, we don't talk, but we're mutuals on instagram. And dare I'll ever admit it to you, but I do- I check, every few times a day, if you've seen my instagram story. And check, if you've uploaded one of your own. Of course, I wouldn't watch it at the moment you post it- no, I'd give it three hours or so after you've posted it to watch it- I didn't want to seem to be stalking you, now would I? And I'm not even stalking- if you decide to share that information with the world, then I'm allowed to see it. I just didn't want to seem like I was watching you all the time- desperate.

But I was.

It was okay, at first, when we were both in relationships. It was easy to forget you, and you'd stay out of my mind for weeks. But when you broke up, that was when it hit- when you'd visit me ever so often. It didn't make sense to me, and it still doesn't, why your visits became more frequent. And some days, I find myself hoping that you'd get into another relationship so that I could forget you- but I didn't really want that, now did I?

I wanted you.

And I hated it.

Because I, unlike you, am still in a relationship.

And my partner loves me more than I could ever love him. And that hurts me. It made me feel like a horrible person, and I hated it, and sometimes, I would hate you too, for making me feel this way, wishing I had never met you- wishing you had never given me that look all those years back in that classroom, that made me feel like I was special.

A thought crossed my mind - How many people have lost the love of their lives because they chose to stay silent, watching the one they adore live their lives from behind the phone screen?

But, I guess I could be okay with it- because as long as you kept posting on instagram, I could make sure you were okay. And every time I see that orange circle appear around your picture, I'd smile, without even knowing what the content was yet.

You do that to me.

You make me smile. By just my thought of you.

And oh, I guess I'll never have you, for you were never mine to keep.

If only you could take these feelings, too, every time you shut the door and leave...

Or maybe, someday, if I'm brave enough, I'll tell you how much you mean to me.

But that would probably be, just as it is with everyone else around us, when we're dead and buried deep.