Because it's one of those nights.

I still do a double-take every time you appear on my dashboard. My eyes still go wide at your beauty. I'm still left in awe at the way you move your body (no one can dance like you). My heart still swells with something  like hurt whenever I see your face (because I get heartaches from looking at beautiful things). I still think of you all the time, even during moments I shouldn't. I still write letters and poems to you (thought you'll never get to read them). I still wonder if I'll ever get to meet you and thank you and hug you and it's pretty fucking amazing, how you can make someone so happy and not even know about it (how do you live?).

Maybe right now, I'm just blinded or maybe I'm undergoing a phase but a lot of things have changed and things are not as they were anymore. I'm starting to outgrow you, starting to lose interest maybe (although not really), starting to lose track of what's going on. But you'll move on to greater things without me, I'm just a fan after all. I shouldn't even be so emotional over this because I don't know the real you and I'll never get to know the real you. I know that some of the things that comprise you are made up and are just for show but during your most unguarded moments, I see a little bit of the real Lee Taemin under the thick skin you've wrapped around yourself but I'm not sure if I love that person as much as the Lee Taemin I know. And quite frankly, I only know the Lee Taemin that you choose to show.

This post is all over the place. I don't think people will even understand. Why am I so sad over such a fickle little thing?

Sigh.

Bottomline is I still love you the most but not as much as I used to.

And it scares me. Gravely. Deeply. Pathetically.

I think I need an airbag.

I have issues with being socially-awkward.

Whatever you say
I'm in the mood to obey
So lead me astray
Jack Johnson - Good People

Actually, I’m not really sure whether to call myself that. It’s all a little bit conflicting actually.
I’m not the most social of butterflies, but I meet people. I can’t strike up conversations the way other people do, but I get by. I hate crowds, but I find myself in one most of the time. I actually hate meeting new people, but life requires me to. I don’t like going out of the house, which my mom’s not so thrilled about. I spend most of my life letting days pass by, but I really don’t know how that makes me socially-awkward. I have friends, although few I consider myself comfortable with. I can hold good and long conversations with people I trust, although there’s only about two of my friends that I trust. I get fidgety around new people, but I try hard not to meet new people so as to avoid humiliating myself. I’m apathetic and jaded with people I don’t know, but then they seem indifferent to my indifference. I like books more than people, but does that make me socially-awkward?
In truth, I don’t really know. So many people claim to be socially-awkward even though they’re not. I can’t exactly call them pretentious for thinking so, but professing that lie—I just think it’s wrong to label yourself with something you are clearly not.
But what I do know is that I don’t like people so much. I choose my friends and I think the less people I have to be clingy with, the better. But I still don’t think that makes me socially-awkward. Maybe something along the lines of wanting to be alone, but not lonely. If that makes sense at all.