You tend to be rude, cranky, and a little egotistical. You’re into working out, and trying to be all thug and buff. You’re into rap music and you have a bit of an anger problem. You drink protein shakes instead of eating breakfast. You’re touchy, and have a hard time taking jokes sometimes. You’re really into your appearance. You confuse the crap out of me.

But the way you smile at me gives me butterflies. I’ve come to realize that you aren’t necessarily just a normal douche bag guy. You’ve been hurt, and therefore you need to appear strong and tough to ward off any suspicion. You’re insecure, which is kind of adorable. The fact that you think you’re thug is more amusing than it is anything else. I enjoy teasing you about your music choices, even on days when I really am just pissed off at you. You’re sensitivity is cute, and I like that it shows that you still have a heart. Even if you’re convinced you don’t. I love the fact that you enjoy that I can’t quite figure you out. I love that you confide in me when you won’t tell anyone else. I love our stupid arguments about nothing. Like how we argued about who was more boring for a good ten minutes just to pass the time.

But you are so wrong for me. Why am I falling for a guy who I can never have? There are so many reasons why I shouldn’t.

But when you tell me you’re impressed by me, or proud of me, I feel like I can touch the sky. My heart flutters and I smile like an idiot, even though I hide it from you. I feel like you know you have this power over me. That’s why you wield it so well. That or you’re completely oblivious. 

And the fact that I saw a twinge of sadness when I told you I might be moving 800 miles away.

Why are you so nice to only me? Why did I want to punch you a week ago, and now I can’t stop thinking about you?

Why do I enjoy the fact that I’m pissed off at you so much, and then we bicker about something stupid and I’m happy again? Why does the uncertainty of our encounters make me so anxious?

Why? Why? Why?