Speak the truth or lie and cheat

My eyes follow you, and yours mine. I race them across the room, to the exact spot where we meet. I hastily look away, and you do the same to me. Is it because I feel you, feeling me, through those eyes?

It is because we both know exactly what's going on here, is it? It's nothing to be upset about, the only thing that we should be upset about is that our beds share a wall and someone we're pretending to act like brother and sister. We're not. We're two adults, and I know deep inside of you there's an understanding. An understanding of what we both want, and we both want it more than anything.

I'm such a very 'complex' person in that I'm not complex at all. I'm predictable. I have my issues, and I don't pretend to hide them. I'm up front about this. I think about you all the time.

It's kinda awful when I think about it. What if this is all a figment of my imagination, that you just have some issues with respecting women so you can't look me in the eyes. I just know some moment we'll linger and things will just happen. But if it's not how you feel, then I'm caught up in a blissful state of contentment, so don't ruin it. Just don't let it get harboured into an evil craze that eventually results in attempted suicide or unipolar depression.

Not that I'd ever do that.

I time my nights around you now, from eating dinner to having unlimited free time from 8:30pm-1am. I would never normally do something like that, but I guess your novelty hasn't worn off. But it's hard to, because you're too much like my father. Someone, who I haven't seen in 2 years and was always the apple of my eye. But not in a sick way, oh no. I'm not Electra. I'm just a kid who idealized her dad, to the point where his alcoholism and commitment issues just faded away. Which is great, as a coping mechanism, but now I'm getting off track. You're like my Dad, and not only that, but a guy my dad would approve of. You have similar ideals and intelligence to him, and you're sure as hell not bad looking. It's haunting me even now.

So as I type away on this sort-of loud keyboard, blasting Space Dementia and pulling tight poppers, I'll think of what I might never have. What I should never have, but somehow in all the chaos, got.

Save me.