Love, for me, has never been loud.
It's never been flowers or grand gestures or movie-scene confessions.
It's always been quiet. Unspoken. Internal. Something that blooms in silence and dies in overthinking.
I've liked people the way you like a song no one else knows.
You play it on repeat, but you never share it. You're scared no one else will feel it the same way.
That's how I felt about her.
It started small just the way she said my name when she was laughing. The way her voice softened when she talked about things she cared about. I noticed everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything. How she always carried two pens. How she stared out the window when the class got too loud. How she bit her lip when she was trying not to cry.
But I never said a word.
I'd type out messages I'd never send. Imagine scenarios where I'd walk up to her, finally brave, finally clear, finally honest. But those scenes stayed in my head, because love at least the way I experience it comes with a hundred fears strapped to its back.
What if she doesn't feel the same?
What if I ruin what little we already have?
What if I'm just… not enough?
The scariest part isn't being rejected.
It's being seen.
Letting someone see the version of you that isn't filtered or funny or composed. Letting them see the overthinking, the self-doubt, the mess. That's the real risk. That's the kind of love I overthink the most the kind that feels too close, too real, too dangerous.
And then there's social media.
Where love looks like couple selfies, perfect captions, matching bios, and hearts under every post.
But what if love is just sitting next to someone in silence and still feeling understood?
What if it's not about the aesthetic but the ache?
I overthink love because it matters too much.
And maybe that's the tragedy of it caring so deeply that you never act on it, because you've already imagined every way it could fall apart.
So I watch from a distance. Smile when she walks by. Pretend I'm fine when I see her with someone else.
And then go home and have conversations with her in my head, where she sees me really sees me and stays.