Take me off the shelf

Just like a book eager to be taken off the shelf.

I'm not as closed a book as I'd like to believe. If you give me a long hug, I might just cry. As much as I'd like to take compliments like a normal person, it's less nonchalance and a lot more of stuttering over my own words while my heart is doing backflips.

Careful when you tell me I mean something to you, I might just take it to heart and make you my favourite person.

And when you become my favourite person, I would do anything, anything to keep that sunny smile on your face forever. I want to listen to you yap on for hours about your favourite book and how the movie adaptation ruined it. The filter on me might falter and I'd let you in on my silly side that no one else gets to see. I'd tell you that I named my diary when I was six the same way Anne Frank did, and that I've never stopped writing in it. I might forget what embarrassment is and you might find out how mushy I am. I might trust you with my deepest secrets.

On the days that you feel exasperated, let me sit with you until it hurts less. Let me be there for you not just on the good days, but on the ugly ones too, reminding you how precious you are to me. I'll be the first to text, to call. I want to give you flowers and protect your beautiful heart. And I'll always be the first midnight wish on your birthday.

I might fall in too deep, whirling in my own depth of emotions, yet I won't drown, for a mermaid does not drown in deep currents. But I'd be afraid of losing you and actually wait for it to happen like a self fulfilling prophecy.

Prove me wrong for once.

Take me off the shelf.

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