my nostalgia

Two afternoons ago, I accidentally met my gay lola at the Seiko office.
He was wearing white (body-hugging, of course). His hair was a bit longer in the bangs. Clean-shaven, clear-eyed. He looked so fresh I wanted to kiss his pretty face. But the best thing about the way he looked that afternoon was the warmth in his eyes when he would address me.

Like he was almost glad to see me. Like it was almost a pleasant surprise for him. It meant nothing to him and should mean nothing to me, but fondness should not necessarily mean your hoping for reciprocation. That's the difference of it with infatuation.

I'm still fond of you, my gay lola. Despite everything else. The only thing that I really want is for us to be truly friends. You, Will. Me, Grace. Is that possible, somehow?

I'm sad. Because I miss you. I miss being emotionally unstable. Haha!