J :
She has brown hair, deep brown eyes, and the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen—wide, genuine, the kind that could stop time if you let it. She's smart, driven, and full of vision. She knows what she wants and where she’s going. And above all, she’s kind. Gentle. Caring in a way that makes the world feel less harsh.
We don't even share memories. No long talks, no laughter echoing in the night, no shared moments that belong just to us. And yet, it still feels like there are unwritten words between us—pages filled with what could’ve been, but never was.
I lie awake some nights, thinking about her. Wondering if, even for a second, I ever cross her mind. Probably not. But still, I wonder.
I feel like the background character in someone else’s story. Always on the sidelines, watching her light up the scene while I quietly admire from the dark. She’s the flame that draws me in—so warm, so bright—but I know it’s not meant for me. Still, I move closer. Even if it burns.
It’s gotten to the point where I go to church every Sunday just to see her. I don’t speak. I don’t get near. Just being there, just being in the same space as her… it’s enough. Her presence is enough to carry me through another week. Her smile, even from afar, gives me a kind of peace nothing else can.
And though I know she’ll probably never look at me the way I look at her, I still hold on.
Because sometimes, loving someone silently can be its own kind of devotion.
2025-07-06 22:28:04