You’re that girl everyone likes, aren’t you? You’re the exotic flower; beautiful, talented, smart, passionate, stable. You’re you, and that means everything. I feel like a fool for liking you. You’re supposed to be a stranger and I’m not supposed to get attached to you because we’ve barely spoken and you never hang around. But I did get attached. I was/am captivated. Not knowing why, I was mesmerized by you. The words you speak, the way you move, your humour, your peeves, your smile. I feel like a fool for it. Because everyone likes you. And I never fall for such things as others do. I’m suspicious of you. Are you secretly an NLP mastermind? But I know you aren’t. What do you feel for me? I know that I stun you. I know I am capable of surprising you. I know that you feel something- enough to trust me with your secrets on the rare occasion of our speaking. But what is it? I’m contemplating the workings of your mind. You said it: we are similar yet different. Well then, why do we never speak? I want to know you, however STUPID, SELFISH and LAUGHABLE the notion is. Why doesn’t anything work? I’m pale for you. Hopelessly, platonically in love. I shouldn’t be, but I now know why. I now appreciate that fact. But what’s the point if you don’t feel the same?