Crap. I really like this boy. This should not be permitted. I am not in love. No, I don’t think so. I cannot fall in love. But right now this boy, he’s my inspiration.
I like the way he grows his hair, carefree and nonchalant. I like his broad shoulders which seem to support the weight of the world. I like that he wears black all the time, my favourite colour—and he doesn’t even know it. I like his face most of all, youthful yet worldly. His eyes, oh, his eyes. They really look at you when he speaks. Black orbs they are, they sparkle when he smiles.
He looks at me when I look at him. We smile then look away. It’s a game. I love the thrill of it. He looks dangerous but very gentle. He’s like a calm storm that tears down my defences and promises a paradise.
Oh, does he know, though? Does he know I’m a broken thing? Can he fix me with his artistic hands and make me beautiful again? Does he know of the darkness in my heart?
What do I do, when his very name means betrayal? He doesn’t look to be that type. But two jaded hearts can never become one. Oh, but when mine dances like this at the sight of him, dare I refuse his existence?
How I wish to get to know him more, to ask him what kind of books he reads over coffee. Or does he prefer movies? What kind? I want to hold his gaze longer. I want him to ask me questions that do not involve other people. I want him to talk to me, save the questions.
I want him to drift away just like the others. So I don’t keep cursing myself for feeling this way. I hate that I like the air around him. I want him to stay, I want him gone. What do I do? What do I want?
This is the thing about liking someone a lot. It makes you say crazy things that will make you cringe later. But I am currently being swept away by the thought of him that I can’t help but chuckle at my foolishness. It tickles me, it envelops me, and I like it.
I hate that I like it.
**So, er, this is my first attempt at being “sartorial”. Items are found in my suitcase. It’s been three months since I moved in to my father’s little studio space apartment so I’m living out of a suitcase. I’m not complaining, though. I love it. Sometimes I pretend that my suitcase is a treasure chest so that when I open it, I'd always marvel at everything I can find inside. I hope you guys enjoy this “experimental post”. Let me know in the comments below if you want me to keep making more. Thank you!