Prose that may be too bland or too blue;
Random stories that may or may not be true;
All penned by Alice in her times of loneliness;
They shall aid the mind and heart of the restless.
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I’m writing this letter because I don’t know what else to do. I can no longer bottle these emotions because I feel so much. This may sound like gibberish and nonsensical, but please hear me out. Just hear me out.
I love how your eyes sparkle every single time. I love your smile. I love your laugh and how infectious it is. I love that you are not afraid to do the things you want. I love how shameless and awkward you can be. I love your sense of humor. I love how you dance. I love how you are.
But I also hate you.
I hate it when you catch me staring at you. I hate it when you stand there in the corner, oblivious yet shining like the sun. I hate it when you look into my notebook and you don’t realize that your eyes, nose, and hair are drawn all over the pages. I hate it when I give you signs and clues and you ignore them all. I hate it when you are with her. I hate it when you make me jealous. I hate it when you make me feel things I shouldn’t feel. I hate it when you make me imagine scenarios of “us” inside my head. I hate it when you make me nervous. I hate it when you make me do stupid things, like trying to draw you a portrait or trying to write a dumb letter.
I hate you because you made me fall for you. You made me love you, and you don’t even know it.
