what he was.

he was like the boy next door. a little mysterious, a little cheesy and a little too sweet for me. he would talk to me as if the words he is saying are so special and precious that no one has ever heard them before except for me. he would get scared when i would stare at him for too long because he thought i was mad at him but i wasn’t. i just liked looking at him. he was like rose. beautiful on the outside but with hidden thorns. he would tell me stories of his adventures with other girls as if it was the most fun he has ever had but then he tells me that its me he has the most fun with and i never believed him. his words never hurt even though what he says isn’t quite correct. he was always so nice and that’s what scared me because i have never experienced that before. he had nice hands and i remember one time when we went to see this strange movie together, i really wanted to hold it and it took everything inside me not to because i knew it would destroy the little garden we created with daisies and lilies but not roses. he hated roses. his jokes were the only thing that could bring a smile on my bad days and i think, he knew that. he knew what i felt and what i didn’t. he even played football and he always said that words could never describe how good he feels when he is with me. i guess, at one point i even believed him but then i didn’t because i don’t think he was capable of loving me. he was intelligent and smart maybe but my best friend hated him. at one point, he was my best friend but then at the other, he wasn’t. he used to write these poems for this girl he liked when he was younger and i could always feel what he was trying to say. i guess, i never got the chance to say how good those poems were. he was always so passionate about things he loved but i knew i wasn’t one of them even though he said i was. sometimes, when he explained his stories to me, he didn’t make sense and i tried not to laugh at his clumsiness. i didn’t realize, all this time, i was only falling in love. he was not perfect. no one is. he always used to tell me about his parents fighting and how he wished he had this perfect family with perfect people but i told him that it’s not something worth wishing and that he’ll regret it. i was never good enough for him and i never will be. he always deserved someone better. someone like the girl he likes. so i left and never looked back again. at least, i saved the garden.


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