Twisted

Midnight Reverie

Hey, I've been wanting to reach out to you, but I've been holding back. I know I'm the one who pushed you away, and I deeply regret it. It's been a month or two, and I miss you.

There are nights when I cry quietly under my blanket while reading your messages. I've saved them all and never deleted your number. I always stop myself from texting you because I know it was my fault for pushing you away.

You have a way of making me feel special with just a few words. I miss that feeling.

You're a mix of everything I like and don't like in a man. You intimidate me in an attractive way. You're humble, simple, and tall. You respect everyone, and we share the same insecurities. I adore how you never boast about your luxuries, and the fact that you sing when no one's around, not knowing the song's title, makes you even more endearing.

I love how you take care of your dogs and speak fondly of them. However, I wish you'd give your little dog a proper name instead of just calling him "Unknown." It's a bit comical, but not really a name. On the other hand, the way he lights up when he sees you, along with Malik, is heartwarming.

You know how forgetful I can be, right? You remember my favorite color, but I've forgotten yours, and you tease me about it.

I know you have a tattoo, that you drink every night to fall asleep easier, and I understand that you're always, always, busy with your family business. It doesn't make me comfortable, but hey, I still like you. I wonder why, but I just do. That's who you are, and I genuinely accept that.

Hey, do you still think of me?

I wish you missed me the way I miss you. I hope you feel the same way about me. I wish you were here with me. I wish I could hug and kiss you right now. I wish you'd be my first. I wish...I wish I never sent that long message. I wish I could turn back time. I wish you could congratulate me on finally getting my degree, send me hugs and kisses, tell me you're proud of me, and kiss me again and again. But I know it'll never happen. Things change, and it's my fault. I hate myself for that.

This feeling is bittersweet, and I never realized its true meaning until you were gone.

I'm in love with you.

I don't want to forget you. I torture myself thinking about you, and I love imagining being with you. It feels wonderful and right. I'm not ready to forget you. I'm not prepared because, for the first time, I've fallen in love. It's not the puppy love I had in high school or the crush I used to have.

This is different. This is real, and I'm scared.

I remember the night you asked me, "Vuoi essere la mia ragazza?" It was in Italian, so I had to look up the phrase on Google for the translation. Knowing the meaning of those words brought me euphoria.

You asked me to be your girlfriend.

But I'm not ready. I'm scared. I don't know if you can wait for me for another year. I'm complicated, you see?

Do you know I wrote that phrase in my special notebook? I'm really looking forward to you speaking Italian to me again. I want you to teach me your language. I desperately want to learn it. And I'll teach you how to speak our native tongue in return. I'm sure it would be fun. Will this ever happen? I hope so.

Did you know that some guys have asked me out on dates multiple times? I always say no because I only want you. Just you. Do you still want me too?

You're not old. I like guys who are five years older than me. I told you, you're my ideal man. You're like those fictional characters in the novels I've read, come to life. They're not perfect; they unquestionably have flaws and openly admit them, which makes them more human than fictional.

I'm hopelessly and helplessly in love with you, and I'll wait for you, even if the outcome is nothing. I tell myself that I'm tired of waiting, but I still find myself doing it. I'm becoming an expert in the field of waiting.

It's okay if you ignore this. Maybe...maybe you're happy dating someone now, while I'm lost in this midnight reverie, thinking about you.

Hey, can we talk, even for just a minute?

Perhaps tomorrow?

I miss you so much it hurts.

My eyelids are getting heavier.

Good night.