Silent Love

I don't have a particular image of my prince charming, but there's
always something about him that can reach into my soul and touch my
heart.

It made me feel deprived. deprived of something I want and
frusteratingly can't have.

It has reduced me to feeling forlorn and pathetic. Last time I was
subjected to this kind of situation, I was left with remorse, pain and
a broken heart that seemed perpetual. I have no doubt that history will
repeat itself.

An unattainable dream, yet still a dream
Thriving aimlessly to reach it.

And I felt some emotion stir inside me that I hope wasn't revealed by
my jocund countenance.

Despite knowing that the intensity of the effect he has on me is not
mutual, it still feels blissful.

Any gesture so ordinarily plain from him is different and I feel taken
over by some devine power and it makes me want to cry.

Involuntary, it flows, desired or not, indifferently, presistantly.
Defenseless towards this strange emotion, I give in.

This feeling is what gives me life, it's what flows through my viens,
it's what I digest. It's what I depend on. It's the only thing that
keeps me here, concious in this world and this sort of power over me
frightens me.

And I wish when another guy talks, I was hearing the words from
him.

It scares me that my life is in someone else's hand.

Do I want to subject myself to this kind of pain? Do I want to
sacrifice so much to the extent of getting my heart brokento experience
some surely ending bliss, if it ever comes? It scares me. Because I
don't want to go through that again.

He's what I write about. He's my inspiration, and what fuses life into
my body and animates me.

It's so frusterating, seeing him and not being able to do
anything.

My heart quelled with a mixture of joy and hope. Hope that I quickly
dismissed, but I can't help but wonder, daydream. What if he was my
boyfriend instead of...

He's right there and I see him everyday, but even when out hands touch
in a measly handshake in the morning, we're so distant, it's almost
unbelievable how I feel about him because I hardly know him.

What I really can't forget is the jolt of happiness that shot through
me when we were inches apart and he had his hand on my head.

It scares me that I might never see him again and that I never
tried.

It hurts because I love someone who barely acknowledges my existence,
who only passes by on my birthday before he continues to his leisure
destination, who leaves me a missed call whenever he remembers me and
who I might not see after next week.

It hurts because I care so deeply for him. And that my heart leaps when
I read his name on my phone, I get goosebumps when we touch, I get
apprehensive about how we'll stay in tough over the summer.

It's unbelievable how a gesture so simple, so nonchalant, so normal and
so insignificant would occupy so much of my thoughts and cause me great
distress.

I feel as though I have finally satiated my ardent desire to see
him.

I know I have a big imagination, but I can't help it. I have nothing
left to do but fantasize. I've lost all hope.

I don't know why I let myself get attached to a dream I know will never
come true.

It felt blissful for a while, but it wasn't pure bliss. It was bliss
mixed with melancholy. A bittersweet feeling of knowing that I well
never obtain my deepest desire.