I liked you from the first time I saw you. 
I fell in love with you the first time I saw you smile. 
I hadn’t talked to you yet. I didn’t know how to approach you. 
I think I was too scared to. 
So I watched. For days. 
Days turned to weeks and still, I watched. From afar. From way too far. 
Perhaps if I had come a bit closer, I might’ve known. I might’ve realized. 
At times, I would walk past you just to hear your voice. It was sweet. Like hot chocolate. 
I’d bump into you on purpose just so that I’d talk to you. Just so that you’d notice me. 
You didn’t. It hurt. 
More weeks went by. 
I finally gathered the courage to talk to you.
I saw you sitting alone. 
As I walked over to you, I heard your melodious laugh echoing. 
Your laugh brought a smile to my lips. I wanted to laugh with you. 
I came to a stop a few feet away from you. 
You looked up at me and smiled through your perfect teeth. 
I smiled back, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. 
We spent the day talking. 
You didn’t talk about the things I thought you would. 
You didn’t talk about the things that interested me. 
But I stayed, still. 
I smiled, still. 
I loved you, still. 
So we talked. For days. 
Days turned to weeks. 
Slowly, I stopped smiling. 
Your voice wasn’t like hot chocolate any longer. 
It became a continuous, monotonous drone. An uninteresting drone. 
It was just a voice that said things I didn’t want to hear. 
Your laugh didn’t make me smile anymore. It stopped being melodious. 
You laughed at things I didn’t find funny. 
And then slowly, I stopped loving you. 
I started to realize that I never did love you. 
I loved who I thought you were.
I loved who I wanted you to be. 
I loved wrong. 
I loved an idea of you.