it can't be love.

of course it can't be. it is only how the slightest idea of your existence gets the butteflies in my stomach flapping wings like some warning signals of a tsunmai. it is only how i always feel that urgency to tell you 10 things that happen in my life each day yet it will make me too clumsy, so i write a thousand words on each thing and press delete, and eventually i go through a process of selection just to pick out one thing or two and condense everything into a very brief and boring summary. it is only the way i felt the inside of me melting like an ice cream under the sun when i saw you waiting there for me. it was only how it moved me so much i could cry when i spent the whole night staring at the ceiling knowing you are sleeping sound in the same room with me because it was too much like old time and i found it hard to believe. it is only how i always return to you when the days are bad, and somehow no matter how far you are away from me, you are always there at the right time, even virtually. it is only how i have to make the biggest efforts to keep my eyes off you. it is only how i have met enough boys after you just to figure out that no one else can make me feel the way you can. it is only how i have ever been so demanding and difficult but you make me compromise so willingly like a complete loser or worse an idiot without even having to try. it is only how your smiles amuse me in the best way one's smiles can, everytime you smile i find it so extremely adorable that i wish i can freeze that smile of yours and keep it deep inside my pocket. it is only how the way you held my hand confused my heartbeats. it is only how i constantly wish i can go back into the days when you were with me and live those days all over again, again and again. it's only how you are always on my mind, for days and months and even years you are still there like the bud of the bud of the tree called life. it's only how the songs you played on those lovely mornings made me feel so bright and light and calm and sincere. it's only how you make me stubborn and stupid and silly and i can't seem to be bothered by being all that as long as you still like me for who i am. it's only how i kind of know that you will probably never love me back and i think i can feel you trying so hard not to surrender and i simply don't want to care. it is only how aquarius do not get over their first loves and you are totally mine in that sense. it is only how i have always been obsessed with fairytales and with you they all came alive to me. it is only how i can't remember the way my furnitures move but i remember most things related to you. it is only how i am a writer, a poetess, an art girl and a romantic one that it is probably not even about you, but me, and the you and me in it. it's only how you make me muse so endlessly and it is only how you seem to be completely unaware of that. it can't be love. it certainly can't. i think we are sort of special. aren't we.