I don't quite understand myself.
I don't quite understand you.
Lately....seeing you....hurts me. In a good way.
I don't know if you feel the same, but I like to think you do.
I hope, I pray, holding on to that strand of belief.
Everyone knows your name, everyone knows your face. You're a part time celebrity, part time Ken doll.
You let yourself be treated like someone's toy, just so you don't make them feel like they're yours.
I just stare at them, wondering, why they're all so pathetic, when I really just wish I was as pathetic, pathetic enough to make it so obvious, so painfully obvious.
Do they even know what you like?
I know they think you're just a quiet boy, a poster child, all for them. You're two dimensional, thin, a painting of an object in motion, to them.
You're into Doctor Who.
It's one of your favorite things.
You like cheesy reality TV shows, just like me.
Why do I feel like....like that matters? It means nothing, nothing at all.
Or maybe it does.
I barely know you, but....I feel like I do.
You come over to me, and smile. Start up a conversation. I smile back, and you'd never know that behind that smile, there's nothing but wanting. Wanting you to know.
It runs for my mouth, begging to come out, to finally escape. But the chains of fear, of rejection, pull it back, right before it makes the great escape.
Lately, you're all I think about.
Lately, you're all I ever see behind my eyes.
Lately, I've worried.
Lately, I am happy.
