Pretty bird

I love you. And not in a friendly way, although I think we’re great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I’m sure that’s what you’ll call it. And it’s not because you’re unattainable. I love you. Very simple, very truly. You’re the epitome of every attribute and quality I’ve ever looked for in another person. I know you think of me as just a friend, and crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option you’d ever consider. But I had to say it. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can’t look into your eyes without feeling that longing you only read about in thrashy romance novels. I can’t talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are. I know this will probably queer our friendship - no pun intended - but I had to say it, because I’ve never felt this way before, and I like who I am because of it. And if bringing it to light means we can’t hang out anymore, then that hurts me. But I couldn’t allow another day to go by without getting it out there, regardless of the outcome, which by the look of your face is to be the inevitable shoot-down. and I’ll accept that. But I know some part of you is hesitating for a moment, and if there is a moment of hesitation, that means you feel something too. All I ask is that you not dismiss that - at least for ten seconds - and try to dwell in it.