Telling As It Is

4th November, 2008.
12.23 p.m.

They say that the longest distance in the world is not between life and death,
It’s when I’m standing right in front of you,
And yet you don’t know that I love you.

I used to believe in it, too, you know. Used to think how hard it must be for a girl (Or a guy. Whichever floats your boat.) to remain anonymous to the person he or she yearns for the most.

And then I found you.

We were never really subtle about our feelings now, were we?

The moment we met, you pulled your friend to one side, apparently (something that I managed to dig out from you a little later on) you were telling him that you thought I was cute.

I joked with my friends and told them that you were the ‘Tight Pants Guy’ I’ve seen around the campus, and we all laughed. But my laugh was jittery, nervous; Because despite your tight pants (speaking of which, I’m glad you’re more to faded jeans now. Almost.), I thought you were decent looking.

… Okay, so I thought you were gorgeous.

And subtlety just went down the drain.

Everyone started pushing the two of us together, and within 24 hours, we were dating.

Within four days, we were an item.

Maybe it really was too fast, but screw it. I’ve never been this happy before. I’ve never felt this pretty before. I’ve never loved and been loved this much before.

And when everything you’ve always wanted comes running at you, who are you to deny it, right?

We were unbreakable, you know. Or at least, I thought we were.

And that’s where they got the whole ‘longest distance in the world’ phrase wrong.

It’s not standing in front of the person you love who is unaware that you’ve loved him for the longest time.

It’s being in love with the right person who loves you, too.
But you can’t be with him.

I miss you, but you’re so far from my reach right now.

I wish I had the longest hands in the world; Then I would be able to reach out to hug you from across the ocean.

I wish I had the fattest lips in this universe; Then I would be able to pucker my lips and demand for a kiss right now, even when we’re miles apart.

I wish I had the most sensitive nose in this galaxy; Then I would be able to smell you whenever I want to, that familiar scent of your favourite deodorant mixed with the natural smell of your skin and occasionally, a slight tinge of tobacco from the cigarettes.

But I’ve got none of those.

Instead, I found myself a rotten heart and a mouth that refuses to coordinate with the brain.

I’ve been especially crude and harsh these few days, I know. And I’m really sorry, but I don’t know how else to deal with this situation.

The fact that we’re apart; it drives me crazy.

I think of us every day, you know. I think of how we met each other; how you asked for my number; how we went out for drinks; how we got together in the end; how you held my hands; how you kissed me; how you love me.

And then I started to write.

You’ve always hated reading, but you always read the things I write, and I love you for that.

I remember asking you once, after I let you read my work, if you’ve finally found interest in reading.

You smiled and murmured, “I only like reading stuffs by one particular author, baby.”

Well.

I hope that opinion of yours still stands, because your favourite author decided to write again.

For you.

This is our book.

And when you flip the page, baby, you’ll see our story.

I love you, my baby hunk.

That much still remains.

I’ll always be here,
Your Belle.

a/n: This could quite possibly be the most intimate and private thing I'm posting up here. 'Nuff said.

So... Should I continue? :)

Much love,
.