Lo.Ok at the stars, LO.ok how they shine for you

Why I like you.

Note for anyone reading this accidentally: I wasn’t forced to write this, really. REALLY. The last really was to let you know that I’m being honest while I write this. Hence, it won’t turn out to be as powerful as most of the love speeches out there. But it’s personal and honest, and I think that’s enough.

 

My colossally damaged memory can’t recall the way you look; it can recall a few bits and pieces but as a whole, your face is a slightly out of focus image in my head. But the annotation below it reads the following: “You look beautiful”. And yes, I think you look beautiful because I like you.  If I didn’t, I wouldn’t know what I’d think, maybe I wouldn’t have thought about you at all. But I do like you and I think you look beautiful by all standards. I’m not a poet and hence I won’t be writing any songs about your physical or inner beauty. I really don’t remember the way your face looks and if asked to draw it up from memory, I wouldn’t be able to. I’ll need to see a picture. Is that weird?

When did I start liking you? I don’t remember. It could have been the day we started talking, because if I didn’t like talking to you, I wouldn’t have talked out of obligation. Oh, you didn’t mean when did I start like talking to you, but liking you as a whole in a romantic sort of way? How am I supposed to know that? Maybe it wasn’t instantaneous as the photoelectric effect; maybe it was and is like the radioactive decay of a species, an infinite process. Yes, Chemistry talks. You hate it. I know quite a few things about you, but they’re never enough.

I do not know you wholly, I just know the side of you that you show when you’re with me or we’re talking on any social sites. So yes, I like the part of me that you have shown me till now. If you’ll tell me that that’s not the real you, well then allow me to metaphorically smack you in the head (I abhor violence). How am I supposed to know who the real you is, if you’re not being ‘real’? Though, I think that it’s just a quote from a book that has been overused so much out of context. And so, you’re the real you every time you talk to someone. You might act a little differently, try to appear more courageous, or well informed out things than you are, but you’re still you. You’re just trying to be what you want to be. That is not faking. If anyone thinks that, they’re an idiot (in my humble opinion).

Why do I like you? I could compile a list of a dozen things but they all point out to this simple explanation: You make me happy. Those late night texts and conversations (which we never had enough of), talking about our passions, making plans to do epic stuff (though we never got around to doing most of them) and lot of other things would be in that list, but they all mean the same thing. You make me smile and just feel good about the world and myself. No, it isn’t always magical; talking to you. It’s like Doctor Who. Some episodes are completely forgettable, but the others are so brilliant that they stay with you forever, or some part of them does.

I’ve been overusing the word ‘like’ in this post. I know that. The thing is that I’m afraid to use any other word, definitely not ‘love’. I’m just a scared little cat like you.

Does your liking me depend on me liking you? I want to say no, but the truth is that it does. Only when I get those vibes that you like me and you feel like talking to me only then the light (metaphorical) inside my heart would keep burning. If you’ll stop giving signs that you care for me and that you’re interested in spending time with me, I’ll move on. Why won’t I?

Even though it would be romantic to say that I won’t, but I will. If all you do is act rotten with me, not that you do these days, but if you do, why won’t I go looking for someone else who doesn’t make me feel rotten?

So there will come a day when I’ll stop liking you, when things aren’t wonderful and I don’t feel happy with you. Why wouldn’t I? And the nostalgia of the past would keep me hoping that things would get better, but when everything that can go wrong goes wrong, I don’t know what I’ll do.

I think liking you depends on hope; hope for happier times if things are miserable between us. Till the day I hope that everything will get better, I’ll go on liking you. To rephrase, that’s the day till when I’ll want to like you.

When that fateful day comes, do not say that I’ve changed. People do not change. They grow. And if we grow out of each other’s lives then so be it. What can be done then? I don’t really know. If I grow and end up not liking you, it’ll be because of the simple fact that you don’t make me happy anymore, and probably I don’t make you happy either. Who stopped making the other happy first? Well, it all depends. The wrong words uttered at the wrong time, neglect, and a hundred different factors determine that.

After thinking so much, I believe that liking you is based on one criteria and one alone: whether you make me feel happy or not. And when the day comes that I stop liking you which I think  I will soon since you’ve lost all hope (most of it anyway) on me, it will be because I just hurt you and make you feel more miserable than you are and you return the favor. In the absence of any happiness or lack of hope thereof, I’ll stop liking you, and if you still care by then and you will get all sad. What you’ll be really sad about is the wonderfulness of those magical moments we spent together and how it made us both happy.

And I would like to thank you for those moments. *sad smile*
Can I have a hug now?