From the moment we first met, no matter how much I tried to deny it, dissect our friendship, or train myself not to expect anything romantic, the butterflies had other plans. They fluttered in my tummy, gentle yet persistent. Half of me was amused by how you affected me, while the other half was frustrated. It was complicated, confronting, and simply baffling.
For the first time, I didn't feel like I had the upper hand. It's a paradox only someone special can create. You make me nervous, tongue-tied, and prone to random, stupid acts of insecurity, yet you inspire me to go above and beyond. We're at a crossroads, on the brink of a new stage in our relationship. I find myself in uncharted waters, afraid that I might drown. As someone who values proactivity and clarity, this ambiguity feels unsettling to me. I've expressed to you several times, more as a hopeful statement than a question: "We want the same things in the future, right? I just need to know when." You told me that you've been thinking about it for a long time but haven't made up your mind because you're not ready, we are not ready. Your answer made me sad because, deep down, I know you're right.