I was so caught up in trying to make sure the walls around my heart were high enough that I didn't notice a brown-eyed boy had been focusing his time on picking all of the locks decorating the door to the entrance. He came with good intentions and the kind of smile that made you wonder why you ever found beauty in anything else. But I had always found beauty in even the most simplest of thing and putting into words how that boy caused such a perfect reaction within my soul is merely impossible to explain. Within a few months I was able to take the mold of myself off everybody wanted to see when I was around him. He saw the rawness of me and when more months went by and he still put in that same effort as he did in the beginning I let my imagination run wild. I imagined the warmness in my chest when he finally held me in his arms and kissed my temple with a tenderness he reserved only for me. I will always wonder what I did wrong to deserve the fate of loving a boy in silence who loved another girl in the open. It wasn't like I didn't talk to him and I think if I didn't it would be a lot easier. There is nothing worse than being in love with your best friend, but it is so easy to be. They know you better than you know yourself, they've seen all of your ugly quirks and still love you just the same. You mistake their same friendly look for something more and the worry in their voice for love. I didn't even notice how deep I had gotten myself until I realized whenever I thought of a future it was always centered around him. His were centered around her. I broke my own heart in private by entertaining a fantasy of things that should've never been a though in the first place. I felt stupid for the tightness in my chest whenever he told me he loved me because I knew my heart was only hearing what it wanted to hear and not what he meant. But I couldn't tell it what to feel and what not to feel, and who said it would even listen to me if I tried. I certainly could pretend I didn't feel that way though. I did so well for such a long time, keeping myself in line and my heart on the same beat. I don' t know when I started getting lazy and it was stupid of me to do so. I could tell now that he felt the difference in my heartbeat and the look in my eye whenever I saw him. It made me love him even more that he didn't treat me any differently. He was as close as you could get to the perfect person to hold a writer's heart. The only problem was, his hands were already full. There are things you learn to live without and feelings you learn to push away. He will always be my favorite person to run to, cry to, and to laugh with. The first one I want to tell everything and the last one on my mind at night. He showed me it was okay to be myself and that my heart wasn't in fact broken, just hurting. He made sure I knew that all of the little things I hated about myself were perfect and the mind I pegged as chaotic was mesmerizing. I will forever be thankful for him giving me some of the feathers that make up my wings. Now that I have these wings I am afraid of fire and even more afraid of the day he leaves. For I know this will ignite a fire in my chest that fills the air with the burning of my feathers and the smell of heartbreak. I am more than fine with how things are now. It is just soul wrenching that when I am not fine he is the only one I want to hold me and he is thinking of holding another.
