I keep my distance at first because I think it will never happen. Because I don’t believe in us.

You act like you want me there, and when I need you, you’re willing to be there for me too.

You listen like no one has listen to me before—without judgement, without fear. In my turn I listen to you, and I don’t judge and I’m not afraid.

Seeing more and more of you, I become more caught up in who you are. I appreciate your quirks, your clever turns, your unexpected ability to find the deepness and worry through it.

I love how quickly we become close, how naturally you seem to start to enjoy me. How right it seems to be with you and to notice and to care.

And when you talk about him I try not to cringe, I try to listen with an open mind and an open heart and be here for you like you’re here for me.

And when you seem to ignore me I try not to let it hurt.

And when we’re close I try not to let my awkwardness show.

And when I panic I try not to let you see.

And when I feel alone among the others and you, I try not to look at you with them, try not to make my loneliness visible.

And I try not to let people see how much it means when you draw me in.

You seem oblivious sometimes and then you do something that takes me completely off guard, and the more time we spend together the more plausible we seem.

But I still wait, I still keep quiet, afraid of what the answer will be, not wanting to tarnish the wonderfulness we have right now.

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