Oh my man, I love him so.
It was true. I really did love him so. I had loved him for half of my life. I met him on the train to our boarding school for the magical. I saw him there, walking down the train corridor with a sort of elegance that most eleven year old boys did not possess. That instant was when I fell in love with him.
He'll never know.
He will never know. You see, I built a relationship with him. For seven years, we were around each other night and day, eating lunch, studying for our classes, reading in the library, watching sporting events together. He was my best friend, and having him in my life as that is much better than telling him and not having him at all.
My life is just despair, but I don't care.
Yes, it is somewhat troubling in instances when I'm asked, "Who is your current love interest?" by girls my age. All I can do is look longingly towards him, where he is horsing around with his mates or dragging a girl off down the corridor, and turn back to these girls and say, "Oh, no one specific!" They giggle and roll their eyes, but they do not pester me. They do not care about me, they care about my gossip.
But I don't care about these girls or the moments when he is not thinking about me as much as I am about him. Even if my life is mediocre, I pray for the day when he notices me not only as his friend but as the love of his life, and flips my mediocre life around.
When he takes me in his arms, the world is bright, alright.
There was one fabulous afternoon last spring. We were hiking, for some odd reason, in the forest that was adjacent to our school. I was walking in front of him, and my foot caught on a rock. I stumbled backwards, but his strong hands were there to catch me. He seized me, set me upright, and stood back from me.
The fall had frightened me so much that tears sprung to my eyes. He stared at me, and then enveloped me in his arms, as if to calm me. We stayed in that position for a long time. He had forgotten where we were, and so had I. All I could see was little stars popping around my eyes. The world was definitely bright and alright.
What's the difference if I say, "I'll go away", when I know I will come back on my knees someday?
Thankfully, I've never had to say, "I'll go away" to him.
However, there is a lot of truth to this. I'm afraid that if I were to tell me about my feelings, he would send me away. I could ruin his pretty life and successful future with my feelings, and if he wanted me gone, I would go. I want the best for him, and if that did not include me, I would happily leave. But I would come back on my knees someday. Even if I were to beg for anything less that "death do us part", I would, because like I mentioned earlier: having him in my life as just a friend is better than not having him at all.
For whatever my man is, I am his forever more.
For whatever my man is, I am his forever more.