why can't I pick one?
why can't I pick one? love stories
  3
  •  
  0
  •   0 comments
Share

anathema
anathema15 // they/them
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
love is dumb.

why can't I pick one?

by anathema

I have a habit of developing crushes on people very easily.

This also tends to mean that I have multiple crushes at one time.

It's always even harder because it's never reciprocated.

Not to mention, I usually go to the one I have a bigger crush on for advice on the other crush.

Because on the one hand is one of my best friends.

He makes me smile even when I'm sobbing on my bathroom floor, and puts up with me even though I cling to him like a lifeline.

He insists every time that it's okay;

whether it's because I poked him too hard or I've spent an hour texting him gibberish because my hands are shaking too much to even spell 'help me.'

He makes my heart ache with longing every time he smiles,

and he makes me hold back lovesick grins when I tell him he's a dork.

He makes me shake my head and ask myself why I love him,

even though I know full well that it's because everything about him is everything I need.

And that kind of pain isn't new in the slightest.

The same thing happened a few years back. The aching feeling in my chest when I see him is almost nostalgic.

But this other boy is everything I could ever want.

He's kind, patient, and can hold a conversation, but silence between us, at least on my end, is comfortable.

I could smile for hours after a 45 second walk with him.

He's an enigma, a mystery I want to unravel, a book I want to read in one sitting and read over and over until the spine is creased and the pages are dog-eared and well-loved.

I want to love him.

He says his favorite thing is art.

Any form; music, literature, visual. I think he himself is a piece of art. I've even told him so.

He's handsome, and sophisticated, but not boring.

He's the kind of guy you want to hook arms with and walk down busy city sidewalks with. The kind of guy you want to show off.

He's got a smile that turns me to putty.

Perfect teeth whiter than fresh paper, so lovely they make me feel self-conscious of my own buck-toothed overbite.

He's too good for me, but he's everything anyone could want.

And I can't have either of them.

Stories We Think You'll Love
COMMENTS (0)
SHOUTOUTS (0)