If there is anything I want to tell you, it is to save your tears for someone more deserving; someone who was standing mere metres away from where you were. That is where your heart should break for and your eyes to shed tears for. Not me. Perhaps never in a million years.
Maybe a younger version of me would have got all choked up and emotional. I was glad I didn’t this time because it wouldn’t be appropriate. I don’t want to express my emotions so openly anymore. The wall must remain out-of-bounds from prying eyes with devious intents.
What I treasure now is the fate that has brought us together. I think I can feel the beat of your heart. Unfortunately, there is no way I can let you feel mine, because too much is at stake.
To the girl in the lift the other day,
Firstly, we’re in the Internet age, when alluring images of naked women are one or two clicks away.
Secondly, I was looking out of the windows on the lift doors, trying to find out which was the level I parked the car. I didn’t get the answer in the end which is why I was looking out so intently.
Thirdly, there are more women in public spaces, showing way, way, way more of their chest than you did. Fourthly, there would be proportionately more of them with “assets” that are easily a few cups bigger than the ones you own on your chest.
Fifthly, I have a younger sister and I would not hesitate to dig the eyes out of an ogler if he (or she) were to stare way too hard at her chest. Or to punch the living daylights out of that lecherous bugger.
Sixthly, you were with your parents. Why would I be that dumb enough to take the chance?
Just to be clear, I barely took notice of whatever you have on your chest. Therefore, it is extremely disturbing to me that you were thinking way, way, way too much than you really should, especially when you were hurriedly buttoning up your blouse. I classify this as extreme paranoia.