While I look at you as you read a book I realize that I'm your problem.

I am your problem because even when there's a lot of people out there that could love you the right way, you chose me. And even though you're telling me all the time that love is not a choice and there's no right or wrong way, I know what you think whenever you look at me and catch me staring, without a care for hypotenuse, or chemistry, or whatever you've been studying in Biology. 

It's while you study for any test that I realize I'm your problem. 

Because you're one of the best students in this college and I'm the little girl who was forced to take classes with a teacher-student too pretty for her own good, which didn't help at all in my lack of concentration. And you know that I always have sarcastic answers on the tip of my tongue, and how I hate your way of being that leaves me speechless and takes my breath away just because you smiled. 

I'm not like that - you know - but I've gotten used to this gift of yours. 

It's while you throw your pink strawberry smelling hair on my face when you realize that I've been staring at you for far too long that I have to suppress a smile and ignore my flushed cheeks because both of us always pretend you don't make me ashamed. And it's not like your smile shakes me that much to the point I get out of breath... none of this!

You once told me that from a scientific point of view, love is a complex neurobiological phenomenon, based on brain activities of trust, belief, pleasure and reward, which involves a large number of chemical neurotransmitters. You explained me that dopamine is the main neurotransmitter in this circuit, and that it basically gives the feeling of pleasure to the lovers and addicts. 

And, ok, maybe you're right, but I don't give a about dopamine or neurotransmitters or whatever. Because to me, love has always been ethereal, uncontrollable, just like you, who always makes me question countless times where I got myself into and find no answers to any of them - like I care. 

Because even when you're talking about neurotransmitters and chemistry and trying to find a plausible explanation for everything that we feel, I can only think of how our hands always intertwine in such a good way that it feels right. And I can only think of how you look beautiful in an uniform - and without it lol - and... Damn, I'm really a bad student, aren't I? 

Because it's while you throw that pink hair on my face when you realize that I've been staring at you for far too long that I have to suppressa smile and ignore my flushed cheeks because both of us always pretend you don't embarrass me and it's not like your smile shakes me so much that I'm out of breath. Because even when you're talking about equations that I'll never understand, I can only think about how big of a problem I am. 

Because you've always admitted to everyone that I'm just your problem and it's not even in the bad way. Since, you, Bonnibel, who always liked solving stuff and helping all people, you like that I remain unknown, that I continue to be a fruit of chance that appeared to you one day and you liked its company. 

I'm just your problem and you don't give a . 

Damn, Bubblegum, I know you never give a since you're with me and sometimes I wonder if that's really the right thing. But we also started the wrong way, so it. I'm too paranoid, too happy, too passionate... Blame the ing dopamine. 

And I'm sorry that I exist, I forget I'm an 'enemy' on your black list but I shouldn't have to be the one who makes up with you, so...  Why do I want to? 

And I don't have to justify what I'm going to do, I know I don't have to prove anything to you - less of all my love for you. 

But I do it anyway.