My love language is words, but your actions make me fall even deeper for you. I often reread your texts, but I find myself replaying the moments we share in my mind the most. Your big, bright smile lights up my days when I thought I could only see darkness. You remind me to pray and seek God, guiding me down the right path. I've known you for years, yet I discover something new about you every time you speak.
When I learned that you love to read, I couldn't help but
think, “It would be wonderful if you appreciated my writing as much as you do
others when I become an author.” I write scripts in my head, and you improvise;
perhaps planning this isn't the best idea.
One day, I woke up to reality, anxiety swirling about what I
needed to do. I found you and said, “We need to talk.” My fingers trembled, my
heart pounded, and I could tell you were a little nervous too. "What do
you need to talk about?" you asked, your voice slightly shaking as you
tried to conceal your nerves.
“I…” I began, repeating the word until I found the
confidence to finish. “I like you.” I noticed a look of surprise on your face.
“I’m only telling you because everyone else seems to have figured it out, and I
thought you’d prefer to hear it from me.” Your expression shifted to
understanding. "Thank you for telling me," you said, reassuring me
that I had done the right thing. I laughed nervously; I had never done this
before. What was I supposed to do next?
Two weeks later, we sat on the sidewalk, talking, and
nothing seemed to have changed. “Did you tell anyone besides your mom?” I
asked, surprising myself with my lack of nervousness despite all the
overthinking I had done during those weeks. Did you like me? I was scared if
you did.
“I told my dad, no one else. I’m sorry we haven’t talked
about this sooner—it's been a couple of weeks,” you replied. “It’s okay;
there’s really nothing to discuss anyway,” I said.
That night, I lay in bed, realizing that I should have asked
you if there was anything you wanted to talk about. The next day, I approached
you and asked, “So, is there anything you wanted to discuss?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate you
telling me that you like me, but I don’t like you in that way. I still want to
remain friends,” you said.
“Oh, yes, of course! I understand,” I replied, knowing that
I can’t make you like me. It’s neither your fault nor mine.
Now I'm finishing up your sister's gift, and I can’t wait to
see her reaction. I can’t believe I realized my feelings for you on October 5,
2023. Here’s something crazy I didn’t tell you, and I’m glad I didn’t because I
didn’t want to scare you away: the day I discovered my feelings for you is the
same day you got baptized, just in a different year—2024.
Hopefully, you won’t read this, but if you do, just remember
that while I like you, we were friends first. Please don’t hesitate to talk and
ask questions. I want to be there for you more than anything. We agreed that we
wanted to be just friends anyway.
