A/N: It's the first time I ever write something in English and post it. Sorry if I made faults. Just tell me and I'll correct them as soon as I can. I hope you enjoy it!
It's this burning inside you, these flames that engulf everything; your heart, your veins, your nerves, everything.
And it fucking burns and your can't describe this any other way because it just hurts so much, so much; you can't even think straight and your thoughts are a jumbled mess and there are no words that you can use to explain what's happening inside of you.
You think that maybe if you stop staring at her, the flames will disappear, like water on a fire. You think that maybe if you stop breathing in her scent, her perfect scent that you can't even recognize because it must be divine, maybe if you stop sniffing her fragrance, the oxygen necessary for the fire just won't be there.
And then you think that maybe if she wasn't so damn perfect, maybe you wouldn't be suffering right now and sometimes you wish she would just cease to exist for a moment, so that the flames stop burning you all the time, so that you can breathe without suffocating because it feels like there's smoke in your lungs when she's near.
When you think like that, you feel guilty. She doesn't deserve to disappear. Not her. And you hate yourself a little more because you're supposed to love her but you don't even know anymore where the line between love and hate is. You just hate how she makes you feel, how she makes everything crumble down to pieces just by looking at you, just by walking close to you.
You hate every single thing that makes her special in your eyes and you hate the fact that you can't have her. That she just prances around, looking absolutely divine while you feel like tearing yourself up, like jumping in a black hole. And you hate it, because you know that even if she stopped existing, you would still think about her, her, her, and it would be worst because she would be gone and you don't know what's more painful; seeing her with someone else, or not seeing her at all.
You hate that she's your drug and that sometimes she's the only reason you get up in the morning and that she's the only reason you try to dress up, because you want to impress her even if you know that it'll never work anyway.
And then you hate yourself for hating all these things, because it comes from her, always from her, and you just can't hate something that comes from her but you just can't help it; the pain is overwhelming and hate is the only thing you'll ever get.
But, at the same time, you love it. You love every second of this hell you're in. Because it comes from her.
And you just feel so pathetic; how can someone you barely know give you all of this? How can someone make such an impression on you, leave a mark so deep that it just won't disappear, no matter what you do?
And that's just what unrequited love is about.
Burning.
A/N: Thanks for reading.