For the guy I wanted (Unfinished)

I don’t want to play the victim, because in all honesty, there was really nothing wrong with him, and he didn’t really do anything. Or maybe he did, maybe not. But unintentional or otherwise, it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I was the one who wanted to believe that what we have is something more than what it is. I was the one who built all these false hopes in my head that slid down all the way to my heart. I was the one who colored his words into things I wanted to hear. I was the one who took the flirty jokes and banters seriously. It was me who seriously hoped that what we have could eventually evolve to what I want us to be. Actually, I don’t really know what I want yet, well maybe in a peculiar way I do, and it’s a super selfish reason, that a big part of me rejects it, but the major members of my body wants it so badly.

Why does it have to be more anyway? I mean we could be friends, right? Why can’t I just be contended with that? Because I want it to be more, I don’t want to invest in something that I wouldn’t profit from. I want returns from my investments. I don’t want you, this, us to be just another pointless venture to pass my time away. But I can’t make my move, because I don’t really know what I want from you, it’s not concrete yet. Maybe I’m just lonely, maybe it’s something more, maybe not. Why do I keep contradicting myself anyway? Why can’t I just be happy that we are friends? It’s what I have initially wanted. Then this thing inside me, whatever it is, wanted it to be more. I wanted you and me, to be us. Emphasis on the “I”, because I was the only one who wanted it. You never did. But there were times, moments, there were simple words, jokingly said or not, that had sheltered and nourished that futile hope in me. There were moments, few though they may be, that had encouraged me to believe that you see me beyond just the girl you talk to out of habit or routine. Or that if you have not digested the fact yet, or if you have not made the realization at this early stage of our friendship, I was hoping that in time you would want me, as I am, not just a friend, not just someone who listens to your countless stories, or to your woes, and your fears and your little successes. L