I love you.
Do you know that before we even meet my heart beats quicker in anticipation, sometimes even missing a beat? It’s true. Right after my heart does the whole super tempo thing, the saliva swallowing starts. Serious. I know you may think it’s strange but I actually find the act of swallowing has a strangely distracting though calming effect. I don’t know why I do it. But it’s not too bad in a way because it helps block out the incessant thumping from my chest. Serious. Why are you looking at me like that? Think I’m kidding, ah? Oh. Haha. You are surprised? I guess, I guess. Well, put it this way. When is there ever the right time? I mean I’ve thought it through so many times. Hell, I’ve even planned it meticulously a few times in my mind. Definitely not anywhere near our friends or family. Definitely not when you’re at work. And then sometimes you’re so busy, or too tired, or you’ve got this or that coming up, sometimes we’re hanging out and having such a good time, I didn’t want to sort of like, you know, fuck it up with this. So that’s why I didn’t let it show. And I told myself, let’s just keep it simple. Next time, she’s alone, just tell her man. Just tell her. Stop living in the land of what-ifs. Stop living in this agony of anguish. But even then, you know, it’s not easy. How am I going to bring it up? Do I beat around the bush playing a slow game of fishing, teasing out your signals of whether perhaps you could just like me more than just as a friend? Or do I get straight to the point? Grab you by the arm, look into your eyes and tell you how I feel. I think I’ve exhausted all the ways of how I would broach the topic. Combed all the movies, books and lyrics to see what the best way to do this is. But the problem is everybody is saying different things. So I figure the lesson out of all this is that I just gotta find my own way. So here we are. I know, it’s a bit cheesy, but the hell with it. I figure, we’ll just have a nice quiet ride with a view when we get to the top. Everybody gets to stop for a while at the top. So, even if things don’t work out, at least we both go home with a nice view. And when we got down, if you said you wanted to go home, it meant you didn’t feel the same. But if we stayed at here at the funfair, it’d mean you love me too. What? Why are you looking at me like that?
That’s what he told me last month.
We stayed at the funfair that evening. But we’re not together anymore. I caught him last night fucking my best friend in the backseat of my Wira.