"I think I love you. I really think I love you." I’d say. And who knows how you’d react?
Maybe you’d sweep me off my feet and everything would be perfect.
Then again you might feel uncomfortable and awkward and I’d lose all of this. How would I live, losing all of this? How would I survive, knowing I’d destroyed the friendship we’d spent so long forming?
These are the thoughts that fill my head before I drift off, the paranoia and hurt slowly driving me insane. I know eventually I’ll have to say something, but for now I come to the same conclusion: I can’t tell you. Not just yet.