When I met you, I thought it seemed too good to be true. As my luck would have it, this was one of those few times where my intuition was right.
We spent countless nights talking. Countless words were traded. Complements. Hopes. The things that made us sad. We were alike. My friends said that we would be perfect for each other. I was beginning to think they were right. We were both athletes. Both smart. Of course you were more beautiful than I was no matter how many times you told me otherwise. It's those times I remember. Those times, where you made me feel like maybe I DID have a chance. We had both undergone troubling previous dates. Perhaps in each other we could find the love we had always dreamed of.
But then again... maybe you'd just taunt me with those hopes, never really giving them to me. I'm not sure who I blame more. My parents, for not letting me date, and mocking me when I told them about you. My friends, for putting the carrot in front of my nose, and making it seem like I had a chance with you. You. For all those nights. Those nights where you told that I was important to you. Or Me. For believing you.
I'm not anything special. I've always known that. But around you... I could forget it. Now, everytime I talk to you... I feel mad. I feel mad at myself for never having asking you. I feel mad at you for never encouraging me to. I dropped enough hints... I have none left.
So I guess this is where I say it.
I love you.
But you'll never know.