Ten people talking to me.
Few more are gathered around the group.
About fifty more present in the hall.
And still, my eyes flick right to you. My lips are moving in a slow mundane way in a boring conversation with people who don’t interest me, but my eyes follow you, follow your every move. You’re fascinating and all I want to do is look at you.
You’re not the prettiest here. You’re not the nicest, not the kindest and not the hottest. But you’re definitely the most memorable. At least to me.
I’ve seen you around before. We’ve talked, I think. We get along too. Others think we wouldn’t, being so different from each other. But we do, and it surprises me, in a good way.
All I can look at over here is you.
I see you laugh at something, and I smile. I see you drop food on your dress and I giggle. Now all I’m doing is looking, staring creepily at you, but not in a wrong way or in the wrong places. I’m looking at your posture, your body language. I’m looking at how your braid hangs loosely at your side looking effortless. I’m looking at the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and how you roll your eyes ever so often.
I would usually have the courage to walk up to you and start a conversation, but not today. You seem too precious, untouchable in the purest of ways. You seem like someone from another planet. You look different from usual, and its not just the fancy clothes or the lack of books in your arms. You look different because this is the first place I’ve seen you unwind. You’re carefree, uncaring about tests and grades. The lines that etch your face seem to have disappeared and your smile is contagious. I’m looking at you, continuously. My mouth is still talking to someone, but my attention is on you. My eyes are on you and you’re looking away from me and laughing.
I’m looking at you, and all I want to do now get to know you. But you don’t know. You’re oblivious.
I’m looking at you, feeling like I have no chance. You’re never going to notice me anyway, how much ever I look. I’m looking at you, feeling hopelessly distant. I’m looking at you, and just when I’m about to look away, you look at me.
Ten people are talking to you, a few more are gathered around.
There are about fifty people in this hall, and yet, your gaze finally falls on me. Your gaze is holding, mine is too.
You’re looking at me and I’m looking at you.
Guess whose back? lol.
~going back to my perfect reverie