Why do I continue loving you, when I'm trying to stop. Because love is like playing with fire and I'll only be hurt. Because It pains me. It pains me to see you with him, the way he looks into your beautiful brown eyes I love, and when he wraps his annoying arm around your slim waist that I want to touch. That he gets to kiss those pink plump lips I die to feel one day, when he says you're his, when you give him all the attention, when you laugh to some of his jokes, when you hold his hand, when you smile at him.
It pains me because I'll never be the one who will get to do any of that, I won't be able to hold you when I want, I won't be able to be wake up next to you and smile seeing your adorable sleepy face, I won't be able to hug you with all my energy and be able to peck your lips whenever I could, I won't be able to be yours and that's what hurts the most. I wish you knew of my feelings, and knew how much I love you and cherish you, I wish you felt the same, I wish you never met him, I wish you weren't straight.
I finish writing the last lines into my diary sighing when my sister knocked on my bedroom door to call me to eat. I quickly jumped up in surprise rubbing my eyes to get rid of my small trace of tears and hid the book underneath my pillow.