j.
I'm not sure if I like you, or the memory of you.
The flashbacks of us being so close, even though now it feels like we are miles apart.
I sometimes sit and wonder, thinking about what might of happened if we weren't so afraid to lose our pride. Even for a second.
What would have happened if I told you that I liked you? We would have stopped talking?
It's funny, because that's what's happened now.
And every so often, when we have the odd chat online, I can't help but wish that you could have been mine.
I wish that we weren't so afraid to speak our minds.
Because I do like you.
Your blond hair, that falls stupidly to one side, and your green/brown eyes, and how they stared so deeply into mine.
I miss you smile, and the way you laughed at me.
I miss how we could be offensive, and how I could ask you anything and you would tell me the truth.
I like the qualities that you hold but don't see.
Your confident walk.
Your mumbled speech.
I like the way you used to go out of your way for me.
But I hate the way that we only talked in class. And how we are now strangers, and I'm still obsessing over you.
I hate the way my friends call you annoying, and give me a hard time about liking you. I hate how they don't understand that I don't give a shit about their input.
Because if I could do it all over again, I'd do it differently.
And I don't know if you ever liked me. Or if you'll ever read this.
But if you do; Offensive Question Answer; B.
Not in anyway a poem or anything of that sort, just a little rant. Which is why is doesn't flow, yet reading back I noticed some parts rhymed.
