I have so much to tell him. I want to say that my world does not revolve around him but he is all I can think about all day. I can’t stop myself from looking at him and be conscious about it because I will always be aware of every single thing that he does. I will always notice everything about him. I can always tell that it’s him by the way he laughs, the way he leans his head whenever he’s thinking about something or waiting, the way he brushes his hair just because he wants to. I can hear him when he clears his throat even when he doesn’t have anything to say, the way he covers his mouth just because he’s used to doing it.
I want to tell him that if composers have their muse to the songs they write, the artist to the artwork they create, he is the muse to every single thought that I have in mind. I want to tell him that I have to be creative with the things I say, to construct sets of words that allows the reader to interpret it in their own way, because when I don’t, he’ll see through me. And it would be the end of me if he knows what I actually feel for him.
I want to tell him that the thing I like about him the most is that when he’s always willing to listen to every rant that I make. He always encourages me to do what makes me happy. He never gets tired of telling me things I’m supposed to know already. And that, I know he is genuinely happy when good things happen to me.
I like how he strikes a conversation which is out of the blue. He can tell you about anything and everything. There will never be dull moments with him. And I realize that he has always been open about anything that is talked about. He will never respond in a way that will cut the conversation right there and then. I’m not saying he doesn’t have conversations he doesn’t like. But what he does is redirect it in a way that it concludes with the perfect timing.
He cares a lot about the people he loves, his family, friends, the people he’s with. He may be firm with his words, vocal and straightforward with his thoughts, but it’s what they love about him. He always gives a part of him to those he cares about.
I hope he won’t bother understanding what I ought to say because I know he has a lot of questions. Those questions require answers. And I don’t know if I would be able to answer any of them. Heck, I don’t know how I will respond if he starts asking me about all those things. Because I might ran out of excuses, of hypothetical situations. That’s why when I said that it would be suicide if the reply will be volunteered, I meant every single word because the right question will enable him to extract the right answer from me. And even when I keep silent and not say anything to him, I know he’d eventually find out and it would be worse than me telling him what he ought to know.