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It’s not fair. How is it fair that whenever I look at you, my heart flutters to the point of breaking free, and you don’t know? How is it fair that I become aware of the slightest movement I make when you’re in the room, and you don’t know? How is it fair that these lyrics, these poems, these highlighted sentences, are all about you, and you don’t know? How is it fair that I remember every word you’ve ever said to me, every moment of the slightest eye contact, and they fill me to the brink with giddiness, and yet you don’t know? Maybe it will never be fair that you are screaming in my head day and night, yet I am barely a whisper in yours. But I do believe that one day, somehow, somewhere, somewhat, you will look back on me, on all our interactions, with the same heart-eye glasses that I see you.
