You may not know my name, but I think I saw you at the AS
steps today. It was only for a fleeting second that I caught a glimpse of your
familiar face—those beautiful eyes hidden beneath the thick, dark frames
reflecting the light of the sun, that all-too melting smile that wove its way
to tugging the strings of my heart and the intellectual aplomb by which you
carried yourself with your casually confident gait. Somehow I knew it was you,
but I couldn't tell because I was too afraid. Too afraid to guess. Too afraid
to risk. And so, I played safe.
But do you remember that night? That night of greasy burgers and large Mcdo fries? That night when I first read the words you put into strings and paper hearts and tucked them into the pocket of my jeans? Do you remember that light, fleeting second when I didn't even ask for your name? When I, for the first time, ran out of words to say? I hope you do because I remember it clearly. I remember how you flashed that playful smirk when I handed you back the words you've planted on my heart. I remember how you asked me if I thought your works were great, and how I idiotically said it was and how somehow, I got to know you without your need to speak. I remember how I spiraled down to the conclusion of wanting to be your friend, of wanting to know you more than a man with words, of wanting to let you read my own words as well.
I remember you. But I know, you don't remember me.
So I'm telling our story in hopes of making you remember, in hopes that someday, if you really are the one walking down the AS steps, you might just walk up to me and say 'hi', that someday we'll write a story over coffee together and someday, we'll be what I've always wanted us to be: friends.
To the wonderful boy whom I think I saw, come find me. I may not be your beautiful girl, but I do want to be your friend. I'll be waiting on a Wednesday where I think I first saw you, and if you want to be friends, then look for the girl whose nose is buried under a book with headphones plugged on her ears. Look for a girl who seems to be looking for you, whose eyes are lost and lonely but whose smile can light up the whole world.
If the world really is small, and I believe it is, then maybe it's you. But if it's not, then maybe I'll look for you, and if things are meant to be, then maybe I'll find you.
And maybe, by then, I WILL know your name.
But do you remember that night? That night of greasy burgers and large Mcdo fries? That night when I first read the words you put into strings and paper hearts and tucked them into the pocket of my jeans? Do you remember that light, fleeting second when I didn't even ask for your name? When I, for the first time, ran out of words to say? I hope you do because I remember it clearly. I remember how you flashed that playful smirk when I handed you back the words you've planted on my heart. I remember how you asked me if I thought your works were great, and how I idiotically said it was and how somehow, I got to know you without your need to speak. I remember how I spiraled down to the conclusion of wanting to be your friend, of wanting to know you more than a man with words, of wanting to let you read my own words as well.
I remember you. But I know, you don't remember me.
So I'm telling our story in hopes of making you remember, in hopes that someday, if you really are the one walking down the AS steps, you might just walk up to me and say 'hi', that someday we'll write a story over coffee together and someday, we'll be what I've always wanted us to be: friends.
To the wonderful boy whom I think I saw, come find me. I may not be your beautiful girl, but I do want to be your friend. I'll be waiting on a Wednesday where I think I first saw you, and if you want to be friends, then look for the girl whose nose is buried under a book with headphones plugged on her ears. Look for a girl who seems to be looking for you, whose eyes are lost and lonely but whose smile can light up the whole world.
If the world really is small, and I believe it is, then maybe it's you. But if it's not, then maybe I'll look for you, and if things are meant to be, then maybe I'll find you.
And maybe, by then, I WILL know your name.
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