I open the door and power-walk to the bed as if I have reached the promised land. With tears spilling from my eyeballs, I am suffocating, trying to drown the noise emerging from my gut. It’s a weird noise, one of a wounded animal or a human in emotional distress.  

My desperation to hide from the world supersedes my need for oxygen so I bury my face in the pillows. My legs don’t make it on the bed so it looks as if I’m praying. Maybe I should pray. I need help. 

Why the fuck do I care so much about someone I barely know? 

Essentially she’s a stranger. All I know about her is that she likes her coffee black, with no sugar and wears some kind of a Flowerbomb perfume. Not that it matters but she tilts her head to the right and smiles after a compliment. Oh yeah, she absolutely loves strawberry milkshake and thinks it’s funny leaving a milk mustache and pretend she doesn’t know it’s there. I smile anyway because that’s my natural reaction to everything she does. She’s got an energy about her, an aura that captivates me and makes me wanna be around her all the time. 

But then come moments like tonight. When reality kicks me in the stomach and I wonder why I keep doing this to myself. I’m ashamed I stick around but deep down I can’t help but hope she’ll finally see he’s not the guy for her. I know that the fact that she “sees me as a friend” even though I’m “an amazing guy” should be enough for me to move on but it’s not. I’m addicted. 

Friends have suggested that it’s a phase and that sooner or later it will go away but I secretly hope it’s the latter. This is the closest I’ve come to love, you know. It’s about 50% of what you need for a love story. 0% from her and 50% from me. No matter how much it hurts right now I don’t want it to end just yet. I’ll be ok tonight. The tears will dry up and I’m pretty sure I can get my legs on the bed.  

Tomorrow we’ll all go for coffee.