Wrong Love

Love.
What a beautiful thing. Everyone loves something, whether that may be a person, memory, story or food... we all love.

I loved someone once, and he loved me. We were perfect, best friends who grew feelings for one another.

Everyone knew we were in love, even though neither one of us had said it.

He would give me gifts, small stuffed animals, notes in my locker...

We both loved writing, we both loved caramel and the colour red, but we were also complete opposites, arguing regularly about silly little things... I miss that.

It was until one day, while he was walking me home, that he confessed to me his feelings. I was flustered. Obviously I had known as if forever, but it was just such a strange concept.

I didn't understand love. I didn't like love.

I told him I did not have feelings for anyone, and that it was best we stayed friends.

It wasn't until the words escaped my lips that I realised was a godforsaken mistaken I had made...

And to this day I regret not telling him how I felt, asking for time to answer, anything to have kept us together...

We drifted apart. Once he knew there was no 'us', he gained feelings for someone else... someone better.

I only wish he still looked at me like I held the entire universe in my eyes... I wish he still loved me.