In the Distance

I like someone, and it feels weird. Every melody I listen to, his face floods my mind. In each vibrant sunset I witness, his company is all I crave. Even in my painted strokes, he is the muse that guides my hand. I never anticipated that liking someone would mean seeing traces of them everywhere, glimpsing their features in passing faces, and sensing their essence despite their absence. It's taking over my life, sucking me dry of my very own existence.

Yet, liking him was not just sunshine and butterflies. Yes, liking someone is fun, but not until the cruel reality sets in - the devastating truth that he will never reciprocate. A path he will never tread, an imperfection he cannot accept, and a future he could never imagine. Being with him is the type of dream that's too fictional to exist in his reality.

In the distance, far from where his eyes can see, my existence remains, a shade forever unseen.