I finally saw you again; you were walking around the neighborhood with Andromeda.
My eyes were only focused on you. You were different from them, from any girl I met in this small town. They were all the same, their eyes have pretty colors, but they were dull and they talked about the same things: gossip, boys, make-up, shoes and clothes.
But that's not you, Nebula.
You spoke with stars in your eyes, with passion and conviction. You would talk about the universe and planets and Greek mythology-- all of that in just one day. You would talk about your favorite books and fictional characters, and told me you'd cry whenever the author kills them. You always laughed at my silly jokes too, and then afterwards you'd mention Harry Potter or your fave episode in Star Wars, because Magic and outer space was your main thing. You had so much to talk about, and it was all interesting—you're interesting. And you walked knowing you're unique in your own way and that you're one of a kind.
When I saw you, I really wanted to say hi so I can apologize, but then I remembered-- I'm the one who walked out on you, that's the reason why you were avoiding me. And that kind of made sense.
Maybe you should really avoid me, because I'm a mess. And mess doesn't go together with clarity, or hope, or beauty.
As I see you walking and chatting with the other girls, something hit me, a realization.
How can I want to be with someone as amazing as you? What right do I have to want someone as ethereal? Why do I even tell myself I can have this 'chance' with you?
In fact, if I have you, if you're with me: I'll end up ruining you.
You're sunshine, I'm darkness.
You're the rainbow, I'm the rain.
You're the burning fire full of hope, and I'm the water that'll drown you with disappointments.
It's true, and I saw that. So I looked back at your smile again, and then walked away.
Yes, I know, I was such a fucking coward.