Unnamed

I don't get those butterflies, and my heart doesn't race around you. It's not that kind of thing. But when we're together, it feels different, in a way I can't explain. I could talk with you for hours and never get bored. You're not like my best friend of seven years; you're something else, something I can't name. And though we've only been friends for a year, it feels like I've known you forever. There's a comfort and a familiarity that doesn't make sense for the short time we've known each other. But the universe seems to be conspiring, throwing hints and symbols my way, as if to say: Look deeper. It should be simple, but it isn't. And I can't shake this feeling that maybe I'm missing something, that maybe this is what everyone else has been seeing all along. It’s not the kind of feeling you write love songs about, but something quieter, something that lingers in the back of my mind and won't let go. You’re not just another friend, not just someone I enjoy spending time with. You’re the person who makes me rethink what it means to connect with someone. It’s not about heartbeats or fairy tales. It’s about the quiet moments, the deep conversations, the way time seems to bend when we’re together. And maybe that’s why it hurts so much, because I might have missed something, that maybe I pushed you away because I didn't understand what I was feeling. Maybe there’s something I’m supposed to understand, something I’m supposed to feel, and I’m scared that I’m just too late to see it. And now, I can't help but wonder if it's too late to figure it out.