On My Friend Zone Experience

I was there once, before I realized what a foolish notion it really is. Dedicated to Sand.

Speaking of flawless diamonds and flowers in full bloom like metaphors for you, not realizing that by doing so I was turning you into merely an object and robbing you of your individuality while silencing your voice; I became so blinded by your beauty that I never got to see you for all that you were really worth. 

Underneath the minimalist make-up and demure high heels and those wavy locks of brown hair that you wore so casually, -oblivious to the way its' lavender scent sent shivers down my spine- I had mapped all the beauty marks on your skin, drawing them into a system of constellations by which my heart navigated these unknown waters of unrequited affection. And still you were so much more than what I saw you for. It was you who taught me that it is possible to love and hate something at the same time, for I loved your laugh but hated who you laughed for. The ease of the way your delicate lips parted as you appreciated the empty words of guys not worthy of your smile, or how your body responded to their advances under the moonlit heavens at night. You deserved better! You deserved me.

. . .

But then I thought, "who am I? Who am I to demand your love? What have I done to prove myself to you?"
And my eyes opened and the harsh truth was revealed to me; I wasn't angry at the guys that had kissed you while I watched on in concealed bitterness, I wasn't frustrated with you because you fell so easily -so voluntarily- into their sugar-worded ploys. No, I was bitter at myself for not saying how I felt, for not having the guts to give you even one of all the letters I had written to you.
This "friend zone" is nothing but an imaginary place that I had created for myself, an illusory world where you were a helpless damsel in distress who needed to be saved by me, your invisible knight in translucent armor. But you were never the helpless one. 

I was.