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You look at me with your glory eyes and suddenly I forget what I'm saying.

With the blinding tears been hidden with your reply and the regretful message at the end. When can I say?

Your replies have not been perfect but maybe they'll never be, soon you will grow old of me and I'm worried I will regret the annoyance of that final message. Why do I like you? I mean you're just like everyone else, aren't you?

No. You're special to me and everyone around you. Yes this sounds cheesy and quite cliche but don't worry, I am going somewhere with this.

You are the reason I write. Without you, all this would be is a blank screen. From your beautiful black hair to the bottom of your feet you are perfect. How could you not be? The shinning hazel-green eyes that always catch me in glare, the sweet sound of your voice that calms me when I'm mad and brings joy in sad times, my list goes on.

I would do anything for you, but you wouldn't let me.

You question my actions sometimes, but it makes you happy so how could I not. Yes I may talk to you too much but I want to be around you all the time. I get the luck of seeing you 5 times a week, yet that isn't enough. Your essence takes me to a world of my own. Your touch that only appears in my dreams. That's all I can do, dream. When you tell me you love me and you want to be with me I fall into a pit of joy, then my alarm goes off. However that isn't the end. I now get to begin another day of seeing you, talking to you, wishing you were mine.

Your glowing personality lightens up my world and your smile turns me into a nervous wreck.

Though you may not know it -but hopefully will soon- I love you and wrote this about you.

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