So it will start with;
I met this cute
little guy.
It was actually an ordinary day.
Thursday in the middle of April. I met him in person for the first time. I have
no idea how it began, but as short as I recall; we suddenly made an instant
connection a moment after he tried to get rid of his awkwardness. Or maybe it
was just me thinking that this guy was a decent—and nice person, so I might say,
I liked him in every way (this fact, of course, left me by surprise, because
his physical appearance was far from my type of a man; but I don’t know, I liked
this guy anyway).
He didn’t talk that much, yet was
cool enough to throw some jokes. He kept picturing me inside his head; and I could
not care less.
I mean, dude, what did you expect
from a stranger you just met that day?
Oh let me introduce myself; I am
not that kind of bitch who gets attached too easily. Especially when it comes
to men. It took me a decade of struggles with anxiety that I always get so
insecure about them. I would not make any first move unless they ask me to. My
ex was so good, but this post is obviously talking about another guy. This cute
little guy.
I don’t care if he liked me or
not, that’s not the point. I just want to thank him for seeing me through
different perception. He was one of kind, and a little odd. Bizzare yet
beautiful. I asked. He answered. But that answer was leading me to another
question. On and on. Until I realized I began to fall for him. My bad, but I could
not resist.
Back to the day we met, all we
had is coffee talking. How do you do?
Why did you leave your house? Don’t your parents get mad if they knew you were
here?
It felt natural. We went with the
flow. Nothing in particular. We talked about unimportant shit. We laughed at
our jokes. I tried to discard all sadness I brought inside and he tried to bend
over me and we were sitting so close. But, trust me, I did not feel a thing
that day. Some say if you had a little crush on someone, you’d feel a little
rush in your heartbeat. But I did not. I just liked the way he stared at people
and smiled; because his eyes smiled too.
I have never thought we were
gonna walk this far.
I cried when somebody broke my
heart. He came to ask if I am okay. This cute little guy—he was playing guitar
for me. Wow, it impressed me a bit. He played my favorite song; Shape of My
Heart by Sting. I don’t really know what was his intention, I just enjoyed
every string he picked. Sweet and gently.
He helped me doing self-healing.
He helped me out and I started mending along his presence every single night. We talked for hours, ah nah, for days and nights. We listened to the same songs. He watched the movies i recommended. And i really appreciated how he kept on checking up on me. I was a madness and his wicked sense of humor sort of matched my soul. Thank you, Bro.
But, still, there was something I kept
wondering; why did he bother doing that for me? Why did he care a lot? In a world obsessed with
not opening up, people like me are the round pegs in square holes. Once I knew
we’ve been getting to know about each other—that we’ve got a lot in commons and
oftenly laughed at the exact same jokes, I realized, I have developed feelings
for him. He has been good to me. He was an amazing friend to talk about
everything with…
Somehow, it was not as simple as
it might look like. This cute little guy was living like a maze. Having
conversation with him felt more like finding a way out of a labyrinth. You’ll breathe
the fresh air, or otherwise, you’ll be trapped forever.
He told me he was a weirdo and I agreed.
I couldn’t even figure out; where he actually belongs?
And It scared me when he admitted that he was not scared of me; he kept on telling me that I was a good person like, boy, how did you know? We just met for the first time, but frankly, he sounded like he knew every little thing about me.
And It scared me when he admitted that he was not scared of me; he kept on telling me that I was a good person like, boy, how did you know? We just met for the first time, but frankly, he sounded like he knew every little thing about me.
And by the time he telling me
that, I knew, I was fucked up. [ ]
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