You tell me you like me – a lot. And I tell you to give me some time to think about it.

I give myself a couple of days to clear my mind. Do I like you back in the way you like me – a lot? Or am I just infatuated with your bravery and generosity?

Five days come and go with us meeting up on normal occasions; you were there, I was present, and both of our friends were there as well. You didn’t even look me in the eye and that made me curious. Why did it seem like your attempts to avoid me succeed just the way you want it to?

Day six is today. I decide to confront you.

I’m standing right beside you, right next to our friends. You’re staring at the rough pavement ground, kicking away the small innocent rocks you see near your brand new white sneakers. Why won’t you look up and look my way?

Am I making you that uncomfortable?

I don’t know how you’re feeling right now but let me tell you mine. I’m upset. And hurt.

I try to talk to you, but you turn your back on me and walk away. You didn’t spare me a glance. As I watch you talk to your friends, I feel this gigantic needle stab into my flesh. Like a syringe, my blood one by one.

I’m in so much pain but you won’t even know.

Today marks the seventh day of the week. I noticed you haven’t talked to me for days, ever since you told me you liked me. When I decided that time is up, I choose to be courageous and confront you on this day. I call your mobile but it sends me to your voicemail. I text you but there is no reply. So I decide to wait – wait until you call or reply back to me.

But you don’t.

So I head over to your place. I knock on the door once I have arrived, and wait in the breezy weather. One minute feels like an hour, and there you are in front of me. Your face looks slightly pale, and I wonder if your complexion was because of me.

I greet you and you let me into the warmth of your home. I see a pair of shoes –my bad ... they are heels– and wonder if your older sister came to visit. I ask you about having guests, but you decide to not tell me the truth. You tell me your cousin, six years older than you, came to visit today. I trust you.

I tell you I want to sit, that my soles are hurting, but you tell me it isn’t convenient. You tell me your cousin does not like guests. So I believe in you. I want to ask you about your confession, and tell you what my answer is. After all, I told you to give me some time to sort out my feelings.

I am about to tell you my final decision – that I like you. But then you tell me to go home.

I am so confused. Why are you suddenly shooing me away after letting me stay for a while? It doesn’t make any sense.

And then I hear it. The noise.

I look directly at you, trying to lock eyes with yours. But your gaze shifted from me to the floor.

You look pitiful right now that it makes me want to sympathize for your loss, or whatever you feel. But I can’t because I can’t.

I’m hurt – in pain.

I’m upset – disappointed even.

But I will not speak any further.

The noise from earlier comes closer and closer when I hear it. I try to catch your attention by calling your name, but you just won’t reply to me. By now, I am glad I stopped calling out for your attention. The noise has stopped, and you finally looked up.

I remember you telling me you like me – a lot. And I remember telling you to give me some space and time. I appreciate you for respecting me, and now I will respect your decisions too.

I give you my answer and walk out the door.

Thank you for liking me – a lot. But I can’t like you back, because I just can’t. I do like you, but there’s not much time left to continue liking you. You have respected me the first time, and now, please respect me the second time.

So again, I shall say… 

Thank you for showing me everything to do with liking you.

word count; 772
#unedited
#mixedfeelingsatm

corner;
there are minor
references to
illness/death