If you want to know when it started, I’ll have to think hard.
I came to terms with it when we were vacationing with our friends, that I know for sure. I know because we were sharing a room, and I slept on the floor for fear that I might say something about it in my sleep. But that’s not when it started.
I realized it the first time you sang for us. I went to sleep that night and your voice was in my dreams, and I woke up wanting nothing more than to see you, followed by an uncomfortable feeling as to what that implied about my sexuality. But it didn’t start then, either.
I think it started within just a few weeks of me knowing you. Maybe even a few days. It was impossible not to smile around you no matter what. And I always seemed to gravitate towards you, if only to make you laugh so I could listen to you reply.
After a year and a half of thinking about this, squirming for a bit, accepting the fact that I was gay and you were the one that made me realize it, I finally decided to tell you.
It was the scariest thing I’d ever done. And you listened. You didn’t reject me, but you didn’t confess to any feelings that let me know you felt the same. I couldn’t tell you everything, because you had to go to the bus. Even so, I managed to hit the important points. Our friendship mattered the most to me. You didn’t have to feel the same. I’d move on. Don’t feel awkward around me, please, for the love of god, don’t make me regret telling you. I’ll take what I have with you now just so long as I don’t lose you completely.
I decided to tell you because I felt like it was the only thing I could do. You told me I was your favorite friend. That’s what did it. I felt like not telling you would just be lying to you, because you’re my favorite, too, in more ways than one. You’re my best friend, and I’ve accepted the fact that I like you a lot more than a friend. I wanted you to know so that you could accept it and get used to the idea even if you don’t feel the same, at the very least.
It’s been about a week. That conversation, held in private, hasn’t come up once between us. And though I’m glad you don’t act any differently around me, part of me is disappointed. Because you know how I feel, but I have no idea how you feel. I can’t read you at all. Anything you do- text me out of the blue, ask me to a movie- is instantly categorized on the ‘signs that she might be interested’ list. And then I have to mentally kick myself in the face and tell myself it’s because we’re best friends, and your knowledge of my feelings didn’t change that for you.
I told you I didn’t want you to be awkward around me, but now I feel awkward around you because I don’t know anything about how you feel about me and my recent confession. I don’t know what will make you uncomfortable now that you know what you know. Will asking for a hug make you grimace on the inside? Will sitting next to you in a movie make you ‘get up for a drink’ and then come back, sitting somewhere else entirely? Will walking with you in the hallway make you feel like I’m coming on too strong, when really I’m just walking with my best friend-who-doesn’t-like-me-back-and-I-accept-that? You know everything and I know nothing.
And I’ll keep knowing nothing forever if it means I’ll be with you forever.