Before... Before I had ever met her I had a mind open to love, open to this romantic ideal that: Maybe, once in a life time you will find someone that is perfect for you. I thought... "How amazing... I want to feel love."
I've had crushes ever since I could remember. And I was never a normal kid either. If I liked you... I might not have even known you... I just liked you. I used to dream about just somebody, anybody, any random girl just telling me, "I love you, do you love me?" I would have told her yes.
But time withers away even hope.
Once, I found someone who enjoyed me as much I as enjoyed them. That ended almost as badly as they usually end. She found another boy and moved on. How sad... how pitiful... that I didn't say anything.
Most of the time I like someone... I won't know it until it's too late... and even then... it's too late once again because I know I will never tell them how I feel, and even then... what are the chances that they will say, "I noticed you too... I would like to know you..." The chances are so minuscule that it hurt me every time this... "LOVE CYCLE" reared it's ugly head.
I used to love for no reason... why did I do it to myself? Or at least... Why could I have acted on my intense feelings?
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