Five minutes to 3am in the morning, I was sitting in bed, thinking about all the things I shouldn’t be thinking about.

You. You are one of those. As usual.

I dip my hands into the bowl of nachos by my bed, reached out for some salsa, and stuffed it in my mouth. I wonder if you’re awake. I go on to Facebook, and I see you online. I click on your name, and was brought to your profile. The first thing I see is a photo of you and a girl. A girl I don’t know. I clicked on her profile, and tried to figure who she could be. Then I stopped. What am I doing. Why should I care who she is. Who am I to care.

Every time someone asks, “Are you guys together?” I always give the same answer, “No we’re good friends!” Just.. good friends.

But no, that’s not what I feel.

It might be a new girl you met at class, or a new girl you spoke to on Tinder, or maybe just a random chick you picked up from Starbucks; all these never fail to somehow prick me a little. Every single time, I fight the urge of wanting to tell all those girls “Fuck off, he’s mine, bitches.” But who am I. Who am I to say that.

And so I try to stop thinking of you; I meet other people. And I’ve met amazing people. He brought me to dinner at a 5 star hotel, and he sent me home that night, not wanting to come in to my apartment, but wanting to see me again the next morning for breakfast. I wanted to say yes, but you were coming over the next day. No hesitations, I told him no. How could I ditch you for someone I just met.

That morning. You bailed out on me for a girl you met while on your morning jog. I laughed it off and told you it was okay, that you should go ahead and enjoy yourself. I think I jabbed myself in the stomach that morning for saying that, for being so hypocritical when all I wanted to do was cry and scream at you over the phone.

That morning I stayed at home, alone. Netflix and chill. Alone. Considering that nachos and salsa aren’t people.

I wish I could scream at you. I really wanted to.

But I also wish I could run to you. I wish I could hug you. I wish I had the rights, to love you.

It hasn’t been easy, and probably won’t start being easy, but maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll be able to answer differently to the people who ask. Maybe one day I’ll be able to say “We’re not just friends.. he’s mine.” Mine.

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