Agony "When you love someone, but it goes to waste Could it be worse?" - Coldplay, Fix You I had been waiting for this message for hours. My hands shivered as I stared at my phone, hoping for the engine to deliver to me the words that would change my #life. I was sure. We had been closer than ever for a week now, and just two days ago had I realized that I was absolutely and irreversibly in love with my best friend. He somehow fitted the definition of every single thing that I had ever wanted and yearned for. Needing to talk to someone about it, I had talked to a commun female friend of ours, (we'll call her 'D') who, just like all of my other friends, had said that we "totally should date", that the way we looked at each other was more than enough to prove how perfect we were together. I was filled with some kind of joy, until I realized how moody he looked. He looked sad, and tired. When I asked him why he wasn't feeling good, he replied that he was ok, and that he needed to talk to me, that he would send me a message that night, and would explain to me all the things that scared the shit out of him, and that had something to do with me. I knew it, he had been scared of relationships and love altogether since his last breakup, and he was going to tell me that I was what he needed, and that he wanted us to be more than friends, that he had finally realized that we were somehow completing each other in ways that we didn't even know that we were incomplete. I hugged him one last time before jumping on the bus that was taking me home from school. I was on the edge of bliss, trying to hold myself back from believing completely and crazily in what hadn't happened yet, and what I had been wanting so badly. But, no matter how much I tried, I was sure, in the core of my soul and heart that the moment I had been waiting for had arrived. How foolish of me. I lied on my bed, my phone a few inches from my face, and put my earphones on. And I waited, and I waited. I woke up to the vibrations of my phone. One new message : "I am so confused". Then another one : "It's about D". A third one : "I think I like her". Hell breaks loose. Your hands shivering you call him. "tell me more about it" you say. He says he doesn't really know, but that it's been on and off through the whole year. You don't really listen, you feel like he bad guy in some kind of cosmic soap opera, at the end of which the villain goes down and dies in his corner, or gets shot right in the temple, and his brains paint the walls. "what are you talking about ?" he says. You hadn't even noticed that you were talking aloud. It's nothing. It's just me having realized that I was in love with you just two days ago. It's just me waiting for the cameras to come out of nowhere and tell me this is some kind of sick joke. It's just me not breathing. It's just me wishing street dogs would rip my heart off it's roots and devour it raw. It's just me dying.