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Posted by on 2013/02/21 under Uncategorized

A girl was once in love with my best friend. I remember her telling me how it felt and how badly it hurt that he would never be capable of loving her because he’s gay and I told her that I understood. I told her I understood because the (straight) boy I was supposedly in love with at the time didn’t love me and he never would. She told me it isn’t the same. I thought it was, but I was so, so wrong. To walk around day after day and think about this person day after minute after second hurts me constantly, and it hurts worse when we hold hands, or when we laugh together, or when I look into his eyes. He has to see through it. There’s no way he can’t see my face light up when he walks into the room or when we meet eyes. I’m an open book. An annoying, clingy open book.

Even if he were straight, I wouldn’t be the person he fell for. There’s so many amazing girls we both know; beautiful, normal, funny girls that get along so well with him. Some of them are actresses and none of them are as much drama as I can be. Why would he be with depressed, aggravating, size 12 me when there’s gorgeous, social, size 3 her? There’s no competition between us, but because we’re best friends, there has to be some redeeming quality in me that there isn’t in them. I wish I knew.

Only one person knows about this and she always tells me to talk to him about it, but I don’t want him to feel awkward about it all. I’m going to wait until he’s settled into a relationship and happy to be with the boy he’s with so it won’t hurt so bad for me, and I’m going to be happy for him and make sure he knows it. He’s an amazing person who deserves the world. He doesn’t like himself, but he should. I wish he could see how much I admire him to have gone through what he’s gone through and still be a smiling, happy person at the end of the day, even when I know he has to be hurting inside. I wish he would notice the fact that I smile like an absolute idiot when I’m with him. I wish he could feel that ache in my arms when we hug, how I wish he would hold onto me and kiss my forehead and tell me he loves me without boundaries or stipulations. He has to see it in my eyes.

Whether he does or doesn’t, he doesn’t need to know. Not yet.

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