I believe I like you.
Sincerely, I do – I wish you knew.
My heart beat faster than it usually does, and it happens whenever you’re around. I am trying to not let this feelings get to me, I can analyze and control my own heart but my heart is strong - maybe it’s stubborn too.
I like you, a load.
Reality is - you are not mine. You’re belong to someone else, much more beautiful and attractive than me, much more irresistible and fashionable than me – in your own perception which I failed to impress you because I am just me, there is not much of me you can fascinated about, none of her is me.
I like every single things spill out from your lips, all the stories you’re telling me about her – of how much you loves her, it disturbs me but I’m astonish of your love to her, so deep so strong - rigid determination to make sure you will not loose her.
She’s lucky.
Even so I wish you were mine, I wanted you to be content with your future – your own decision. You can speak to me about anything – I am here.
It will not be a nuisance to me.
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