Last Night

I thought about you last night.

I was reading through my old diary entry I’d written of the day we first met. It was a special day- I don’t keep an ordinary, daily diary like most, I only write big events in mine. The day that I met you was classified as a ‘big event’. That thought made me laugh, though I’m still not sure why.
I remembered the first time that I saw you, how my brain shut down and all I could do was drink in the sight in front of me. Your face from that day is still imprinted on my mind. We were both younger and more innocent, and the image that I hold of you reflects that. But still, on that day that has influenced the rest of my life, I had to forcibly keep myself from staring.
You looked back, of course, interest lighting up your perfect brown eyes. I knew we clicked, I could feel it even before we started talking. I think that everybody else sensed it too, but they probably put our connection under the category ‘friendship’ rather than ‘something special’. Maybe you did too.
But as I read back over my childish account of first meeting you, I was astounded by how little my view of you has changed. You’re still so beautiful that it physically pains me, still so witty that the very thought of you makes me laugh, still so stupid that you drink too much and regret it every time, still helpful that I can tell you nearly everything, still so perfect . Perfect for me, anyway, and right now, in my mind, not a lot else matters.
The first line I wrote when I placed my pen to this blank sheet of paper was ‘I thought about you last night.’ Well, that’s not strictly true. That first line implicates that I thought of you for the first time in a while last night. That’s impossible- I see you often, still, and to be honest, you’ve never been off my mind from the first moment that I met you. You’ve captured my mind as well as my heart, and you don’t seem to realise it.
Reading and rereading through the diary entry, the energy and happiness that reached my through my younger self shocked me: I’d almost forgotten how joyful my childhood was. Back then, just after I’d met you, I wasn’t sure if I’d even see you again, but I knew that I wanted to. I guess fate intervened on my behalf.
We were together again and again through common interest and hobbies- further proof that we’re good together. There was no force in joining us, we just seemed to fit. Like two puzzle pieces that you know can’t be wrong because they feel so very right.
The worst, and best, part of this whole charade is that we’re still friends. Close friends, at that, firm friends. As I’m writing this, you’re probably trudging through the rain to see me. If you’re not out already, you’re going to be late. It wouldn’t surprise me if you are though- you have no sense of punctuality at all.
I can imagine what you look like now- your hood pulled up for feeble protection, head down and shoes damaged by the relentless rain. The corners of your lips would be turned down though the smile would still be clear on your face. Anyone who didn’t know you would find your presence and stance fairly menacing, but you have never frightened me, not even when we barely knew each other.
You will forgive my rambling, but you see I am young, drunk and heartbroken. It seems that every time I lift my pen more sheets of paper are filled with stories and poems and letters to you.  So I’m putting this one where you can see it- in plain view. You probably won’t think it refers to you, though.
Just spare me one more moment before you role your eyes and banish this drivel to the back of your mind, there to remain until you forget it. There was one last thought that shook me as I flicked through the dusty pages of my not so old diary last night, and I thought I’d share this one with you.
I felt so incredibly old.
I know that in nearly everyone’s definition I am still young, and about to enter the ‘prime of my life’, and all the other stuff that they tell you. But this, it wasn’t the feeling of mental or physical age. It was the feeling of time passing, time having passed. It was then that I realised that time is passing far too fast for my liking. It’s been a few years since I met you, and for the entirety of those few years you have been burned upon my mind. Never once have I done anything about it, though I have considered it enough.
But that has got to change, because I can’t continue this way.
I can’t keep biting my tongue. I need to know now, so that if there is any chance that you feel remotely the same as me I won’t miss it. If there’s any chance that you’ll say yes, I’ll take it. This may ruin us, our friendship, but at least I’ll know I’ve tried. It’s better than waking up alone when I’m 60, and wondering where it all went wrong, We’re not getting any younger, though it’s taken me years to realise that. And I know that I need you, I’ve always needed you.

It’s time to face the music.