I like you. I really do.

I just stared at the blank page for minutes  trying to decide on how I am supposed to start this off. My mind just went blank but I knew I wanted to write about you. Talk about you. It's been a while since I've finally admitted to myself that I have a thing or two for you.

You're cute. Have you seen your eyes in the mirror? They speak of your simple joys, the way they smile. I don't really dig on chinky eyes and I haven't really stared at yours that long when I had the chance but yours are just too cute I'm getting embarrassed.

You're fun to be with! You are! The way you made an effort to make the conversation a little longer and interesting made my innards smile. You had your smart ideas which I can't really recall because I am forgetful (and biased because I like you). Your enthusiastic voice, it definitely made the moment comfortable despite the high level of social awkwardness.

The exterior was cool as well. You dressed pretty good, not skanky nor grand. Not hip. Not vulgar. Just simple enough not to be noticed by anyone. But me.

See, I don't need you to look like Joseph Gordon-Levitt nor Ryan Gosling just for me to like you. Because any girl, once they get to know you, would definitely like you too for who you are.

But you're nowhere to be found.

And I wish to see you tonight. In my reality called dreams.