It hurts. It really, really hurts. I mean, you're my best friend, I shouldn't feel this way about you. But I do, and I can't stop it.
I wish I could.
Those smiles, the way your whole face lights up when you talk about him. I wish you'd look like that when you spoke about me. Your whole face seems to glow, and your cheeks flush, and those eyes of yours... I didn't think it was possible for that beautiful green to look any more vibrant than usual. Boy was I wrong. You look like you could fly, when ever he gives you a compliment, or he smiles at you.
What does he have that I don't? Should I dye my hair black? Maybe I'm too nerdy for you. Should I scowl, and use disgusting and crude language? Hah, you're probably annoyed with me, for saying bad things about him. Well, I don't care. What about me?
It's never the same with me though. I guess I'm just always there for you, so you take me for granted. That's ok though, because it's true. I am always there for you. Whenever you need me, I'll be here for you.
It kind of hurts though, well, more than kind of. Sometimes, when I'm home alone, I'll just collapse. And the tears, they don't stop. My shoulders just keep shaking, and my breath keeps catching, and it's like I'm being ripped apart. It just kills me inside, but at the same time, you make me feel beautiful, and like I could be worth something. Weird how that works. You build me up , but you break me down.
I think I've lost count of how many times I've hugged you, and comforted you when you cry about him. You tell me you love him. Why do you have to love him? I'm right here, and I won't hurt you like that. But I don't think it works like that. Instead, you cry on my shoulder, about how you wish he'd love you back, as more than a friend, about how it rips you up inside. I know what you mean.
Those late night conversations, where you just spill everything? I remember what you've said. Each word, everything that makes you hurt. I remember, and I swear, I'm trying to make it better. You don't deserve this.
Sometimes, when I'm messaging you, I'll pick up on little things. Like how you don't always entirely pay attention to things I've said. But you always remember what he said, don't you? I guess it's like I said before. I'm taken for granted. But it's working both ways, isn't it? You've also started noticing things about me, when you are focusing your attention on me. Sometimes, you ask me if I'm alright. You say something seems off about me. I'm trying to reassure you, I really am. But I can't tell you the truth. Not yet.
I wonder if you'll read this. Maybe you won't understand. That's ok. I don't think I fully understand either. Maybe I'll find someone else, someone who'll take my breath away, who'll feel the same about me. Maybe then, I'll stop crying late at night, curled up in bed. Instead I'll smile, and be happy. I hope so.
I don't think there's any point hiding your name, is there? Eren, you've probably already guessed, if you're reading this. But please, don't tell me you've read this. It hurts enough already.
I don't want to hurt anymore, Eren. But I'm always here for you.