Your eyes were deep brown.
I stared at you while you stared at me. We were both waiting for the one who’s gonna make the first move.
But it was neither of us.
You see, we are afraid of rejection so much that it made us afraid of love. It was okay for me, it was fine. It’s 2016 and people were open minded and they didn’t care who made the first move but on who made the last. They never actually cared, because relationships nowadays are considered private and nobody should snoop around other people’s business. But I just hoped that you just made a tiny bit of effort to show me that I matter, and that you care. And that you loved me that much to make me feel it. Because I sometimes feel like I’m the only one putting efforts into this relationship.
I was the one who said “Hi” first. I was the one who approached you at school when you were alone, because I somehow felt that you were embarrassed of me and what we had. I hate it. You make me feel like I’m such a burden to be around. As if I’m trash. As if I’m not worth putting effort on. As if you didn’t like me enough. As if you didn’t love me.
I’ve made multiple efforts on you. I did the first move. Then I did the second. Then I did more. Then I made the last.