you made her cry

Sir Chris,

The story I'm here to write should be written by you. The setting is incomplete; it is, for now, just a semi-realistic oblivion. However, the plot is not important. Because in the end, you made her cry.

The two of you were in the Oblation Circle. I entered the scene but the show just went on--it did not mind my intrusion.

Laughter. Shrugs. Pouts. Smiles.

Goodbye. You left her. Then she was wiping her face. You made her cry.

I wonder what your intimacy with her is. I want to be close to you too. I don't really care if that means that every time you would leave me, I'd cry. Because somehow, I know that those tears would be understood. Unlike now.

The truth is, I cry out of frustration because I know that these feelings for you would never be reciprocated. I tell you though, that this is enough for me. I'm contented. I am just frustrated that I am. When what I should be doing is telling you what I feel.

"I love you."

Sometimes too, I wish... I dream a fantasy that you know me. You greet me in the corridors and I smile at you ( a smile intended to be seen by you). I could ask you about Chemistry and perhaps, we would study together. You might even allow me to attend your classes. They're just fantasies right?

But couldn't you feel the eagerness in them?

Let's go back to that scene yesterday. If we could have been acquaintances, I could have asked you why you made her cry.

~Cherry