“I’m starting to think that you are realising exactly why I say you are my favourite.”
Have you ever known what it feels like to be someone’s favourite face?
Have you ever known what it feels like to be someone’s favourite part of the day?
Have you ever?
It feels like something out of a book.
It feels important,
but it also feels fleeting.
Because feelings like this never last, and if they do, they are never quite the same.
Feelings like this become hazy especially when things never line up quite the way you (or they) want them to.
“I don’t want to see you smile, I want you in the morning.”
It’s special, feeling like you are wanted after so long of going unnoticed.
But it also makes you tread slower, it makes you hesitant.
It makes you recoil at their touch.
It makes them question everything.
“You know you’re beautiful, right?”
Everything you are, from your tip of your toes to every last hair on your head, beautiful.
And it doesn’t stop there, the gold that is in your soul, your mind – unlike anything else.
You eat it up because it feels nice.
You eat it up because you want it to be true.
You eat it up because it is has been so long since you believed it.
You eat it up but you still don’t believe it.
“I’m here, even if you tell me to go, I promise I won’t be far away.”
You still push, you push hard.
You push because you can’t imagine what sort of pedestal you have been placed upon.
You push because you don’t want to live up to those expectations.
You push because you are scared.
You push because you like the fight.
You push and you know it’s not right.
“I fucking love you man. Unconditionally.”
You can’t be serious.
You can’t love a person that is so damaged.
You can’t love a person that runs.
You can’t love someone like that.
Maybe you can.
“Well Miss, if the whole world was in fact just one big room, you’d still be the one.”
You start to believe.
You start to understand.
“Rest of my days, remember?”