So despite all these depressing~ and cynical thoughts, I’m still thinking about you and how much I like making you smile, and laugh. And just. I don’t know. I like you. A lot. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I’m so comfortable around you, yet so on edge around you. And I get so giddy when I see you, even at the most expected times and places. And I’ve liked you for a while. I just haven’t really fully admitted it to myself. Mostly because you liked my friend. A lot. And I could tell. But really, I’ve liked you since my last birthday. Which was January. It’s November. Almost a year. And I’m finally admitting to it. I guess you’re just. Nice? I don’t know. You do the dorkiest things. Yet you’re so sly sometimes. And you make me laugh with the littlest things. And yes, you’re nice. You care. You don’t say things that might hurt people. You have these weird moments where you just stare, and you don’t know what that does to me. And I know nothing’s going to happen, and I don’t even think I want anything to happen. Maybe I just want you to be my friend. I know you already are, but sometimes I feel like we’re not “official” friends. Because we sort of started talking to each other through mutual friends. And I fear that one day, you’ll stop talking to me, but you won’t even bother explaining because we were never really friends. And really, you’re one of the only reasons I’m still here.

Long horribly organized paragraph. I apologize.