You don't like her. You tell yourself you don't like her. You aren't the kind of girl that has crushes; the overzealous sunshine-and-rainbows, heart thumping, crushes. But sometimes you think of her, and sometimes happens too often to count. You think about her every day and it wouldn't be an over exaggeration to say you think about her every hour, every minute.
Thoughts of her bloom from the core of your brain and stretch into the bottom of your toes, and you can feel it everywhere. It bubbles, and when you've just woken up, and your muscles are working themselves awake, you can't help to imagine her waking up with you. When you're eating dinner, and you can see her sitting across from you, slowly twirling her fork in a since of bemusement. When you're lazing on the sofa and you fantasize of sitting hip-to-hip with her, purposely leaning into her, and feeling the curve of her whole body lean back. Or when you're falling into sleep and you think about what it would be like to silently wrap your arms around her warm body, and feel her return it.
You think about her kissing you and holding you in her arms, and you both wouldn't say a word. And you didn't have to; your lips and arms could do so much more than a simple sentence could ever do. She would be immersed with kisses, and you'd both laugh and giggle because no one else had to see this side to both of you-
But you'd never get the chance to show her this side. You're lives existed on two separate planes.
And maybe this truth hurt a little too much because maybe, truthfully, you were impossibly in love with a girl named Mikasa Ackerman.