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The flutters—the jitters, the excitement, embarrassment, maybe even shame. The hour of the day doesn’t matter; the intensity of the feeling never goes away. It’s a curse and it’s growing—the painful yearning.
Humming the tune of the song “Line without a hook” by Ricky Montgomery—I know the feeling and message of the song. It’s as though, it speaks for those unable to catch the love and affection they ever wished to have.
Fishing for love in a vast pond—with just a rod and a line, unable to catch any fish without a hook in place, no results—you’re left waiting for nothing and you know it.
Is it worth it?
All I can do is watch from a far and its painful. I never really expected to fall for him—yet here I am stuck waiting. It’s like a fisherman’s dream to finally catch a fish they’ve eyed for in the vast seas; yet they keep failing, falling and lacking.
It makes me realize I too am a line without a hook.
For painful weeks and months I’ve waited—I realize it’s completely foolish, he already had another in mind, and I never had a hook on my established line. Afraid to catch, afraid to approach.
I’m not courageous, and I could’ve sworn I was fine with this sort of arrangement if it meant watching you from afar—sometimes I still cry. When you’re sad—I am too, and when you are happy, then so am I. It is a simple philosophy, almost too simple.
But God, his smile, his entire existence.
It’s enough to make me forget I even exist for a fraction of a second—and for me, it’s all worth it.
Oh, all my emotions
It was cold, and I remember the lights were daunting in that small conference room; bright and awful. I did not even know your name at the time, I simply knew you by your face. You sat silently, observant, and introverted.
Yet when you smiled—I’m not even sure God exists but with such a beautiful smile like that, surely he does—he must have blessed you. I was freezing cold and that room, and yet that singular smirk left me warm.
A man of many talents.. A voice mellifluous enough to silence even my thoughts—I almost envied you.
Someone like me couldn’t possibly attract such a being such as you. Inferior, lesser, and almost mediocre in every standard. I was ashamed to even laugh in the same room as you—scared to even talk to you.
And I could only cry in frustration. I’ve never cried for a boy before—and it feels ridiculous.
Would you love me the same?
All the letters, all the words, and all the lost poems that I don’t even remember the contents of—I only know one thing. And they all always speak of you.
And I don’t even know why I’m writing this right now, you may never even read it. I never planned for this to be a message, but I’ll probably make a love letter soon with all the things I’ll ever want to say to you.
And I’ll be happy no matter what your answer is.
I have so, so many reasons to love you.
Your entire existence is a prayer with a blessing alone.
But I question, platonically or not, would you love me the same?