This is something I wrote this morning at like 3:00, I don’t know why but it felt good to write it although I’m still sad that I’m too scared to confess to him

Hi Ethan, I don’t know why I’m typing this or even what I’m going to write, but I, um, I like you. I’m too scared to actually tell you, so I guess I’m just telling my phone. But whatever, I’ve always sort of had a thing for you. I don’t know how to describe it, but ever since I met you, I’ve loved everything about you. I don’t know where this is going; I’m really struggling here. I just… I love you, Ethan. I hope one day, maybe I’ll get to tell you that. Maybe I’ll get to see you at some point, hold your hand, lay my head on your shoulder, and watch a scary movie together. I don’t know. This is so weird; I’m like venting here. I don’t know what to say. I wish I could be with you or at least meet you. It’s so scary to me that I could lose you so easily. You’re so far from me, yet it’s like you’ve always been right by my side. I’m just so confused. I really wish you were here to comfort me or something. I don’t know. I hope to see you one day, maybe show you this message, even if it’s convoluted and doesn’t make any sense. I’m kinda just trying to pour all of my thoughts into this notes app. I don’t even know why. I mean, you probably won’t even ever see this. I may never even get to see you. I shouldn’t say that though; I should be hopeful. I guess this is so hard. I don’t know what I’m doing. This doesn’t even make any sense. This is probably more writing than I’ve ever done in my life. If I could write this much in English class, I think my English teacher would have a literal heart attack. 304 words so far, none of which make any sense. Anyways, so I don’t know. I’ve gotten so off-topic here. Typical of me, I guess, haha. I really just typed “haha.” I’m so stupid. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. This is so dumb, I don’t know. I wish you were here right now to hold me. This sounds so corny, and me saying corny is even cornier, if that’s a word. I love you so much, and I don’t really know how to convey it in words. I sound like a creep, but I think about you all the time throughout the day. Whenever I’m doing something, I’ll think of what you’re doing or something like that. I don’t know. I always want to text you, but I’m so scared to. I guess I don’t want you to catch on to me and realize what’s happening. I’m so scared to tell you I like you. For all I know, you may not have any feelings for me, at least in that way. But then again, maybe you do. And if I never tell you, I won’t ever know. But if I do tell you, it still scares me either way because if you like me back, I don’t know how to manage a relationship like that, especially a long-distance relationship. You’re only 6 hours away, but it feels like a million kilometers. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see you. And if I do tell you and you don’t like me in the same way, I don’t want to lose my friendship with you. You could cut me off and never talk to me again. I would be devastated, but I guess I wouldn’t be able to do anything. I don’t even know. I just… I want to be with you. I know that sounds stupid, but it’s true, and to lose you forever would break me. It sounds dumb, but I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. You make me so happy, Ethan. I can’t lose you, not now. Also, happy early birthday. When I’m writing this, your birthday is in a couple of days. I hope you have fun when that day comes. I guess it’ll be in the past though whenever you read this, if you ever read this. I don’t know if I would even want you to read this though; it’s so bad. My writing is horrible, and I’m kinda just dumping out all my thoughts at 3:30 when I should be asleep. I hope to talk to you soon, the real you that is, not this version of you I have in my head. I can type all I want, but you’ll never type back unless I actually text you, but you know me; I’m way too much of a, well, a pussy to do that. You’re probably sleeping rn anyway; you always do have a good sleep schedule, except for when I ruin it talking to you for 8 hours until 4 o’clock. By the way, we haven’t talked in a while. I hope we do soon. I’ve been too scared to message you and just ask to talk. I don’t know what you would think of that; you might catch on to what’s going on. I don’t know if I want you to, at least not yet. But still, I feel like I’m torturing myself. I talk to you all the time; we even kinda sound like a couple during our conversations. If only we were. A person could wish. God, I can’t stop thinking of you. I wish you were here to hold me in your arms. It feels so weird to say it, but I guess it’s good for me. I guess this is sort of like a diary. That’s so dumb. Who knows, maybe you have one and you talk about me. That would be hilarious. Two best friends, both crushing on each other, but neither of them knows about the other’s secret. It sounds like the plot to a shitty romance novel. Although I do love gay romance novels. I don’t know how I would even tell you. I want to tell you so bad, but I’m just terrified. All the possibilities running through my head are terrifying me. I can’t just text you, “I love you, Ethan.” Or I guess I technically could. Fuck, I wish I had a time machine or like a crystal ball that could show me all the possibilities of the future. That would be great, but I can only dream. Speaking of which, I hope I see you there. God, that sounds so pervy. I don’t even really dream about sexual things, though; it’s kinda weird. Whenever you’re in my dreams, it’s just us doing normal things, like sitting on the couch watching a movie or going for a walk in the park or laying in a park on a blanket watching the stars. This sounds so dumb; I feel so creepy saying this. Thank fuck no one will ever read this, at least hopefully. Damn, this is almost 1200 words already. And none of this makes any fucking sense. I feel like when I read this back, it isn’t going to make any sense. I miss you. God, I fucking miss you. I would kill an innocent family just to be with you. Well, that’s a bit much, but it’s an expression. I’ll just tell the Police the family attacked me. They’re dumb; they’ll believe it. Damn, I’m fucked up. I don’t know what to say anymore. I just wish I could know if you felt the same about me. I mean, I know you care about me, but I don’t know if you like me, and it’s so annoying. I hate this, but I love it at the same time. My whole body hurts just thinking about you, but I’m not mad about it, and I don’t know why. Oh, and that one photo of you that you sent to me and then deleted, I saved it. Sorry, not sorry, but I love that photo - your eyes and your smile. It literally gives me butterflies in my stomach, and I can’t help it. But I’ll kinda just lay there holding my phone to my chest with the image open and wishing it was you. I sound like a fucking creep, but I can’t help it. I want to send you a photo of myself, especially considering the only photo of me you’ve seen is that horrible one of me doing the ahegao face. I wish I could send an actually decent photo, but I’m just too scared. And I feel like if I did, you would send me more photos of you. I mean, you snap me all the time with just slivers of your face, and if I quit being a shy bitch and just snapped you back, I feel like we would make it a normal thing and maybe even start video chatting instead of just doing voice calls. But I’m so scared of what you’ll think of me; I hate my face sometimes. I’m trying to learn to love myself more, but it’s so hard when everyone points out my imperfections. I wish every douchebag in the world could get on a rocket and fly into the fucking sun. The world would be so much better. I don’t know, though; maybe I should send you a photo of me and just break the ice already. I wish you would just tell me you like me so I don’t have to do it because I know I’m gonna fuck it up somehow. I’ll say something stupid and ruin everything. I don’t know what to do; I wish I could just tell you. But even then, I feel I would still be sad. If you liked me back, I would still wish you were actually here so you could just look me in the eyes, tell me you love me, and kiss me. God, I’m so dumb. This is stupid. I’m being a creep in a note on my phone that no one will ever see. Yet I still keep typing. I wish I could be with you, but I guess I can’t. You probably don’t even like me anyway. This is pointless, but I still love it. I love you, Ethan. I love you so much, but I can’t tell you because I’m too much of a bitch.