Quiet Emotion
I know that it's wrong to feel this way. I know I should have more common sense. But somehow, I can't help it. I'm drawn to you. Everyone's drawn to you. It's easy to see why. Your sparkling blue eyes, your carefree attitude. You'd have to be an idiot not to notice the stares people give you. The stares I give you.
But it's wrong. I know it and you know it. But you're the flame and I'm your moth. I can't help myself. I want so much more than what we already have, but I know that it isn't possible. I won't let myself feel that way. I can't let myself feel that way.
I wonder, sometimes, what it's like to be you. To go through life without problems or fears, to be able to do what you want without fear of judgment. I wish I was like that. Then I could tell you how I feel without repercussions. But it's not important how I feel. Only what you feel. And I know you don't feel the same.
I want…well, I'm not quite sure what I want. I've never really been sure. I think I want more from you, but then that quiet, nagging voice invades my brain and says, "No, you can't. You're his friend, and that's all you'll ever be."
And maybe the voice is right. I'll never know unless I try. But do I want to risk a lifetime of friendship for a moment of possible passion? Even though I know that passion would be oh so sweet…
I can't risk it. You're too important to me. And if the only way I can have you is to be your friend, then I'm satisfied with that. At least, that's what I'll keep telling myself.
"Hey, Jack?" someone interrupts.
I turn, "Yeah, Clu?"
"Can we talk?"
I know that it's wrong to feel this way. I know I should have more common sense. But somehow, I can't help it. I'm drawn to you. Everyone's drawn to you. It's easy to see why. Your sparkling blue eyes, your carefree attitude. You'd have to be an idiot not to notice the stares people give you. The stares I give you.
But it's wrong. I know it and you know it. But you're the flame and I'm your moth. I can't help myself. I want so much more than what we already have, but I know that it isn't possible. I won't let myself feel that way. I can't let myself feel that way.
I wonder, sometimes, what it's like to be you. To go through life without problems or fears, to be able to do what you want without fear of judgment. I wish I was like that. Then I could tell you how I feel without repercussions. But it's not important how I feel. Only what you feel. And I know you don't feel the same.
I want…well, I'm not quite sure what I want. I've never really been sure. I think I want more from you, but then that quiet, nagging voice invades my brain and says, "No, you can't. You're his friend, and that's all you'll ever be."
And maybe the voice is right. I'll never know unless I try. But do I want to risk a lifetime of friendship for a moment of possible passion? Even though I know that passion would be oh so sweet…
I can't risk it. You're too important to me. And if the only way I can have you is to be your friend, then I'm satisfied with that. At least, that's what I'll keep telling myself.
"Hey, Jack?" someone interrupts.
I turn, "Yeah, Clu?"
"Can we talk?"