When you looked at me straight in the eyes that very first day we met, it was like I was struck by that thing they called "love at first sight." I liked how your eyes sparkled when our eyes met.
And when I found out we were taking the same majors and you'd be on my block for the rest of the second semester, my heart skipped a beat. Seriously. I never thought that I'd get to see you every day and it never occured to me that I'd be able to talk to you.
That time I saw you sitting in the corner as I entered the classroom, I swear I almost jumped because of joy. And hearing you laugh made me laugh, too. And when we had our first conversation, I was nervous and my voice was shaking but I stayed calm to have that little chat with you.
And then we got to hang out with our friends around and laughed at everyone's quirks and be so loud infront of the canteen where all of us would stay for the rest of our free periods.
Suddenly it struck me, I'm not even infatuated with you. This isn't just a thing we used to call "crush." I'm in love with you. And you made me feel that you felt the same way towards me.
I'm in love with you. And you made me feel that you felt the same way towards me.
Sweet words, sweet gestures—I thought that they were all real. I was so wrong for assuming that because by the time I saw you walking on the hallway with another girl, I shattered into millions of pieces. I felt like I was falling into something that wasn't actually happening; all the scenarios and conversations were in my head.
You looked so happy. If I didn't know who you were, I'd say you were #goals. The kind I'd reblog on Tumblr or like on Instagram. You both looked so picture-perfect for each other.
And when I'm reminded of that day when we first met, how I wish that I'd never seen you look at me. I wish I had never looked back. I wish I never did.
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