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Recollection
Eh, this isn't entirely based on reality, but hey, I say, it's close enough.
I was always on the verge of asking her. Every time she smiled, I would open my mouth and then shut it with restricting fear.
I usually sat at home with the Cure and Morrissey playing loudly holding the phone in my hand. I would stare at the numbers that I wanted to press, that I wanted to touch, that I should have already pushed. Some days were different to others. On good days I would get up to six or seven numbers before I quickly slammed the phone back down. On other days I couldn't even touch the cursed thing, even when it rang. I always had a shred of hope that it would be her, but they were always messages about vacations and new cars.
I would spin the phone around in my hand and imagine my conversation with her. I would make up little scripts in my mind as to the perfect words to express my feelings for her. It always wound up ending with an "I love you."
I always quickly put that to rest, when I came back to reality.
When I was with her, I was so close. It wasn't anything she would say, it would just be the way I was there next to her. She would be talking about her new clothes, and that's when I wanted to tell her. I can't explain it.
And every time she would regale me with stories, she would always stare straight into my eyes. I could never look back for longer than a couple seconds. I always needed to turn away. But I would force myself to try again.
That's when I wanted to do it. That's when I wanted to explain.
I wanted to explain why every time she spoke I was listening intently. I wanted to explain why I would help her with any question she couldn't do. I wanted to explain why I smiled when she laughed, why I broke all my plans for her, why I took so much time to choose the clothes I wore, why I never got mad at her.
But I never did.
I always looked away again.
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