Ana is... different. I’d like to call her unique, but that would be oversimplifying things. She loves spending hours on her phone, is more online than present in real life, and every time we go out, it’s like everything bores her. It feels as though I'm not enough of a reason for her to look up from her screen or even pretend to enjoy herself.
And yet, there are moments when she seems like she’d put me above all else. Her love for music drives me crazy — she’s always humming something by Doja Cat or similar, as if she doesn’t care who hears. Her gaze alternates between boredom and this energy I can’t quite grasp. Sometimes I feel like she hates me, and other times like she loves me too much.
Maybe I'm imagining all this; maybe I really am exaggerating. But what if what I'm feeling is real? Is this love, or am I just obsessed with the idea of her, this image of hers that is far from perfect, yet somehow feels like perfection to me? Some would say I’m just lacking experience, but I believe I feel something real.
"You know, sometimes she drives me nuts. When we’re sitting outside, she just scrolls on her phone, texting someone or watching something that seems much more interesting than me. I wonder what would happen if I just left in the middle of our time together — would she even notice? And then, just when I think this is all a game to her, she says something totally unexpected, like, 'What would you do without me, Andrija?'
And every time she says something like that, my heart skips a beat. It’s as if she’s truly thinking about me, even though she seems to ignore me entirely. I keep coming back to that gaze of hers — whenever she smiles, I convince myself it’s not just in my head. Maybe I’m playing with my own emotions, maybe she really has no idea what she’s doing to me, but I keep going. Each of those moments when it feels like she’s there with me — that’s what keeps me coming back."
"It's strange, this thing with Ana. When I look at her, I feel like the world stops existing — all those sounds and people around us just fade away. And yet, even when we’re together, I feel like she’s always slipping away. Like she’s far off in her own world, and I’m just trying to reach her space.
In my head, I keep trying to answer one question: what is it about her that pulls me in so much? Is it her smile when she sees something she loves, like a new anime, or the way she hums songs only she knows? Or maybe it’s how she makes me feel both love and pain at the same time, as if she’s testing me? Maybe it’s the uncertainty that attracts me, because it drives me to find new ways to reach her."
"There are moments when I feel like she truly sees me. When we’re together, I keep looking into her eyes, searching for some hint in her gaze, but she almost never returns it directly. Sometimes, while I’m looking away, I can feel her looking at me. It’s like she’s watching from the shadows, but as soon as I turn, she’s back to her phone, or smiling like it’s nothing.
And when I laugh, I notice she often laughs with me. As if she senses the energy, as if something pulls her to laugh along with me. And then I feel like we’re connected, but doubt creeps in again — what if it’s all just in my head? What if her glances and smiles mean nothing, or I’m just exaggerating them? Maybe I’d be happier if I could ignore those small details, but when you’re in love, every tiny moment feels like proof."
"Sometimes I wonder, what if I told her everything I feel? But then I remember how she acts. Sometimes she’s there, like everything is fine, and other times she acts as if she hasn’t even noticed me. And as I write this, I ask myself — am I truly insane? Do these small things really mean something, or is my mind just grasping at anything to keep me going?
Every time she smiles, I get this hope that it’s a sign, that she feels something, but then I question myself: maybe she’s just being polite, maybe she doesn’t even realize what she’s doing to me. Maybe she’s just trying not to hurt me, smiling out of courtesy. Or maybe, just maybe, she feels the same but, for some reason, can’t tell me. Maybe she’s just as afraid as I am, afraid to open up, to admit what she really wants. Maybe she’s shy, pulling back in the same way I do."
"I’ve started to lose control. Every thought of her exhausts me, every moment she doesn’t respond or acts cold, it throws my mind into chaos. Am I truly this desperate? Am I just imagining all these things, or does she really feel something for me? Maybe I’m too sensitive. Maybe I invest too much in that smile or glance in my direction, because how could she know, when she’s still just her, and I’m just... me?
I never knew I could feel this confused. Sometimes, while looking at her profile on my phone, I wonder if I could ever tell her how I feel, if I could ever say that everything I do, everything I think, everything I feel, leads back to her. Could she recognize those little parts of me that I only show her? Maybe I could tell her all these things... but what if it only bothers her? What if it’s too much for her?"
"Then, there comes a moment when it all becomes clear: This isn’t just a crush, this is madness. Yes, I’ve gone mad over her. I look at her and wonder why every time she smiles, my heart skips a beat. Why every time I text her, even if she just replies 'OK,' it feels like an answer to a plea for love? All those tiny details… all those moments when it feels like I’m on the edge of something, but I never cross it. And then I think: ‘Maybe it’s all an illusion. Maybe it’s just in my head.’"
"I start to reflect on everything… Is any of this real? Is Ana really who I think she is? Or is it just an image I’ve created in my mind? Are her looks and smiles real, or am I weaving a story that matches my desires and dreams? Maybe all this is just an illusion, a game my mind is playing, and I’m just a character in that dream. But… what if it isn’t? What if it’s all real?
Or maybe it’s all a lie? Maybe she doesn’t even know how I feel. Maybe she’s smiling out of politeness, maybe she’s just being nice. Maybe she doesn’t notice I’m even there, and all these words I’m writing, all these thoughts spinning in my head, maybe they were never real. Maybe this is just my fantasy, just my way of coping with things I don’t understand. Maybe none of this matters. Maybe I’ve just tangled my mind up too much."
"But if none of it is true, what’s left? Are we all just actors in our own lives, wearing masks we put on to survive? Maybe love is just a trick, a way to deceive ourselves and others. Maybe all of this isn’t even love, but just something I want it to be, something I hope for, something that might never come. And what if it’s all a lie? Am I just another mask, trying to find meaning in a world full of illusions?"
"Confused, yet certain — something is changing. Maybe she’s someone entirely different. Maybe all this is just a game she never wanted me to play. Maybe she doesn’t love me at all. But… then what? Was I just waiting for it all to happen so I could tell myself: ‘You know, maybe I should have given up’? Maybe I should have given up before I even fell in love, maybe I shouldn’t have hoped for something more. But now, as I write this, I realize something – all of this is just a part of me. No matter what, I want to tell her how I feel.
I know, maybe she’ll break my heart. Maybe she’ll leave me shattered, like chestnuts in the dead of winter, just so I can retreat into some corner of my mind. But that’s all a lie, isn’t it? My heart has long been broken. Not by her, not by her, but by everything I’ve been through. This is just another piece of the puzzle, even if those pieces may never come together.
But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter anymore. Because sometimes, the only thing we can do is say, ‘I love you’ — even if I know it may never be returned. Because love, true love, isn’t about what you get. It’s about what you give. And if she never looks at me the way I wish she would, that’s okay. Because a heart, no matter how broken, always has a little more to give. And maybe… maybe that’s all I need to do — to tell her how I feel.
And maybe, just maybe, it won’t change anything. Maybe there will be yet another moment where she’s just looking at her phone while I’m standing there, with all my questions and all those answers that never came. And, you know what? That’s okay. Because in the end, maybe all the answers lie in the things you never ask, and all the answers lie in the things you don’t dare to say. Maybe that’s the only answer we truly have.
