Almost lover.


It’s funny how today’s language has come up with a term for someone you loved but was never truly yours. It’s also scary how rampant broken hearts are because of this term.


Most of you reading this right now have probably experienced having one.


When you think about that person, you get sad and happy at the same time. You don’t know whether or not you’d regret meeting them and letting them so far into your life.


They fill your thoughts every day when you can afford some time to hang out. They creep up your mind in hopes of reaching for your heart when you lay down after a busy day.


You tried your best not to fall in love with them, but you can’t help it. It could be out of the most random reasons and it varies for all of us.


For some, it’s because of the long and quiet late-night drives. Once the car would stop at a red light, you sit there in silence. Then through the corner of your eyes, you see their hand just lying there, waiting to be held.


You become hesitant but at the same time thrilled. That’s when you share a glance with them. That knowing glance that makes your heart beat faster and louder than you ever thought it could. But then the light turns green.


The moment passes. Fleeting, much like the lover you never had.


For others, it’s not because of the quietness or the excitement found in curiosity. Rather, it’s the deafening boom of familiarity. It’s the sneak away make out sessions and the hidden hand holding.


The way your body moves so in sync with theirs astounds you. Every touch, every kiss, every night spent with them exhilarates you. When you’re left alone with them, your pulse races and the blood rush makes the both of you heat up.


Then it crashes, when you lay next to them and watch them sound asleep.


You find yourself sad that you can only love them in the dark.


For a lot of you out there, it’s both the silence and the loudness. It’s because you fell in love with a friend. Though you can’t say for sure if it’s the worst kind, you’re certain that it hurts like hell.


During the late hours that you talk to them, you find yourself torn between whether or not you would tell them. You figure that since you’re both sharing secrets, you might as well tell them, but you hold yourself back because you think about what you could lose.


You look at them straight in their eyes and tell them you love them.


But as a friend. Because you know that’s all you will ever be.


When you lose them, you can’t even grieve properly. Because a part of you keeps reminding yourself that you were never truly with them. You’re a logical human, you can’t help it.


When you fell and you found yourself falling alone, you realize that the impact won’t kill you. It would be the time spent before the actual blow. Because you find yourself looping in a certain period of your life that you spent with them.


You wonder why it’s so hard getting over them. The satisfaction that you yearn for cannot be found in an almost kind of love.


And although you lost them, you still seek that satisfaction from them, knowing very well that they will not give it to you.


You seek closure because you’re programmed to find logical means to finish something. That’s simply not the case with almosts. They’re not the type to complete the race.


They, as cliché as it is, are never enough.


They are what they are, almosts.

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