A.N. : Yar. No this is not about me...try again...

Oh you love her. How it hurts to love her. You close your eyes and fist
your hands, as if to hold this feeling deep in your palm, so that when you
touch her again she can feel it. She radiates the beauty of so many
things. She makes you hurts, she makes you cry, she makes you so happy.
You let your fist go, trailing your fingers along the windowsill. She
doesn't know. She can't know. How is she so blind? Can't she see? All
the emotions in your eyes, no matter how hard you try to hide it, it's
there. You sniff and turn away from the window. You love her so much.
You don't want to smother her, but it's so hard. You want to keep her
safe, tuck her away and keep her for yourself. She's so different from
everyone else. Mainly because she means so much to you. Your heart aches
and you want to die. Why is this so horrible? Love isn't supposed to be
like this is it? You can feel the flutter in your stomach and you swallow
against the bile rising in your throat. She's so special. She makes you
hurt so bad. But a good hurt. The hurt that lets you know you are human
and can love whatever you want. You smile to yourself. She is so
beautiful in your eyes, it hurts you when she's down, when she feels so bad
about herself. You want to make it better, you want to be there. But she
wants to be strong by herself. And that makes you hurt more. It's both
physical and spiritual. You touch the bindings of the books on the shelf,
you can't ever tell her. Would she even accept you? Or brush it off?
Would she even care? You wipe at your dry eyes, afraid of showing too much
emotion. You want to just take her and tell her everything, show her just
how good things can be. The good things she can't see. Maybe that's what
your plan is...to just show her. She'll care. She has too. Why does this
hurt so badly?