Short Stories of Short Ideas

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Nearly every night I'd sit on my bed and stare at my phone, waiting for it to light up. Waiting patiently for her to write to me again. Every night I'd feel butterflies in my stomach as the time flew by and came closer to 10pm. I knew she would text me like she does every night. Whether it was a simple "goodnight", a rant or a long conversation between the two of us until late at night I always loved every moment because although I haven't seen her in months it made me feel as though she was beside me.

She was amazing although she never saw it. She could make me laugh or cry. She made me feel so emotional, so strange, so in love. I knew it had long gone passed a simple crush. We were both 18 now and that "little crush" had been going for over 4 years. At the young age of 14 she had charmed me and taken away my soul. Her beautiful whiskey eyes, her long black hair and her small lips. I loved when she sang although she did so rarely it would feel special, like a melody of the mermaids, drawing you closer to the edge. As for me, I fell. I fell long and hard and couldn't get up. Not then not now.

All I wanted was for courage to overcome me and let me confess my feelings. I had nearly done so at 14 but felt so scared I would lose her I broke down. I had failed myself. I told myself it was only a small crush, that it would pass soon. I'd just have to divert my attention to elsewhere. It failed. The more I tried to ignore my feelings the more they burned me. Now when I couldn't stand waiting anymore I decided to tell her. I decided I would tell her tomorrow.  I'd take her out and show her the most beautiful view and watch her as she'd take it in. Her face would glow in the sun and her eyes would sparkle with chocolate brown specks. I'd lean in to her ear and whisper every feeling I had hidden deep within my heart. I'd confess all the love that I had felt for her for all these years. I wouldn't hold back, I'd tell her of all the times I felt so horrible because I had hurt her. I'd tell her of all the times she made me feel amazing and happy and special and loved. I'd rant until I'd pant like I had run a marathon. Only then I would stop and look deep into her eyes.

If she'd accept my love I'd already be happy but if she'd return it as well... I'd cry and hug her until my arms would hurt. I'd kiss her forehead, her small forever blushed cheek, the bridge and tip of her slender nose. I'd kiss her small delicate lips with the weakest of force as though they were made of porcelain. I'd never let her go. I'd tell her I loved her every day and every night. I'd take her on dates and cuddle with her at night. I'd make her dinner and breakfast for her to eat in bed. I'd be with her in the darkest of times and I'd make sure she'd always find comfort in my arms. I would give her my time, my everything.

But I couldn't. Not yet. I needed to confess before I'd say all those things.

I was scared. So extremely scared. After all she was perfect in her imperfectness and I... I wasn't her ideal candidate. I didn't have short black hair for her to ruffle. I didn't have chocolate brown eyes or a strong manly body. I wasn't the perfect man that would make her laugh and stop her from hurting. I was weak. I couldn't control myself. I was broken.

Yet I still wanted to feel loved by her. It was a monster I could never feed with anything else. A fire I couldn't extinguish.

I was imperfect. I was a miserable excuse, but now with my new found courage I knew I could do it. Even if it ment losing her. Even if it went never seeing her again.

I had to tell her. But one question doesn't let me sleep tonight.

"What if she doesn't like girls?"

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