was it love?

was it love?

What was this feeling I got whenever I was around you? This insane urge to make you laugh. To stand up straight and smile prettily when I walked past you. It couldn't be love, no it simply could not be. I refuse to accept that I have fallen in love.

What is love anyways? Is it just admiration of a pretty face? Is that why it never lasts? Pretty I am not, but I've been told I'm funny. Do you agree? Do I make you laugh? Do you anticipate our conversations, how I tease you for you crooked glasses. Never mind, I don't care either way. Because I definitely do not love you.

I saw you yesterday talking to that lovely blond girl. It didn't bother me in the slightest but I do wonder, what do you see in her? Sure she's pretty. Sure she's skinny. Sure she's got a tinkling laugh and oh such a cute nose. But you don't like her do you?

You touched me today. It was just a casual brushing of hands but it filled my veins with this unknown feeling. Am I sick? You felt unnaturally hot, perhaps you should get that checked out. Wouldn't want you to come down with something.

I hate your eyes. How they make me feel when you look in mine. Oh god, I feel like I'm drowning.