Dear Sweetheart,
Hey... I, um, hope you notice me. I'm that guy in the back of our class, quiet, trying to find words. There's something I wanted to say, but, well, it's really hard.
First day, I saw you in the hallway. I wanted to say "Hi," but my voice decided to play hide-and-seek, and I ended up mumbling to myself, walking into a janitor's cart.
Second time, I tried joining a group project you were in. Thought it's a good chance, but words scattered like confetti. I stammered and knocked over pens, leaving me in a clumsy mess.
Third attempt, lunch seemed like a good time to talk. Sat at the same table, but my sandwich revolted, mustard on my face. I couldn't look you in the eye after that.
Fourth time, there was this club meeting. It was now or never. I walked up, but my shoelace had other plans. Tripped and almost took down a poster stand, embarrassing.
I wanted to tell you that your smile is like sunshine, and, um, you make me feel like I'm holding a bunch of helium balloons inside. Hope you don't mind the weird comparisons.
I see you in the library sometimes. I like books too, but when I try to talk, words play hide-and-seek. Maybe they'll decide to stay put one day.
Anyway, just wanted to let you know you're like the nicest sunrise in my college life. I hope we can talk someday, even if I have to write it down on paper.
I've been trying to gather the courage to ask if you like coffee. Not that I'm a coffee expert, but ordering a cup turned into a tangled mess, and I ended up with hot chocolate.
There's a beautiful garden near the college gate, and I thought maybe I could accidentally bump into you there. Flowers make everything less awkward, right? I walked around, trying to act casual, but you took a different route. I ended up talking to a squirrel, pretending it understood my silent struggles.
In class, passing notes seemed like a simple "Hi, how's it going?" But each time, the paper had a mind of its own, dancing around the wrong people. It's like my notes have a secret mission to avoid you.
I hope this letter isn't too weird. I just wanted to tell you that being around you is like standing on the edge of a diving board. It's thrilling, scary, and I might need a little push. Maybe one day, I'll find the words to talk in person. Until then, I'll be the guy in the back of the class, trying to figure out how to say more than just "hi."
At a bookstore downtown, I thought we could accidentally reach for the same book. You know, like in the movies. But my coordination betrayed me, and I nearly knocked over a bookshelf. Left with a self-help book about improving clumsiness. Irony, right?
During a college event, they had this photo booth. A cool way to have a picture together without talking. As I approached, my shoelace had its revenge, and I stumbled into the booth, causing a domino effect with the props. Our picture turned into a chaotic masterpiece of falling hats and glasses.
I overheard you talking about a favorite movie once. I watched it, like, three times, hoping it would give me something to discuss. But when I tried to bring it up, my mind went blank, and I ended up saying something about my cat's eating habits. Note to self: rehearsing conversations doesn't always work.
In class, there was this group project. I thought, "Finally, a chance to work together!" I even rehearsed saying, "We make a good team." But when I tried, I blurted out, "We make good tea." Everyone laughed, and I wished the floor would swallow me.
I hope one day these awkward attempts turn into something better. Until then, you'll find me in the background, mastering the art of accidental mishaps. If you ever see a guy tripping over his own feet, that's probably me.
Take care,
Your Admirer
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