My Unsent Letter: Maybe

I think I love you. I do; I could never let you know, though. Everyone would judge me. I think maybe even YOU would judge me. That word: maybe. So much hope hangs from that word, yet so much uncertainty. MAYBE you like me back. MAYBE I can break up with my boyfriend for you and nobody would get hurt. MAYBE you'll profess your love to me. MAYBE you're just talking to *her* to make me jealous. Maybe. Why do I love you? Having the same music taste isn't enough. Or... MAYBE it is..? Maybe that's what sparked it for me again. Yeah, I said again. Don't you remember 7th grade? Or was that time to unbearable to remember? I know for a fact that you do remember 7th grade. It's always, "Good memories...", followed by a wistful stare and a heartbroken smile. Maybe I'm making it all up. Maybe it's all in my head. Maybe it really was just "Good memories." But what if it isn't? What if I'm not imagining the way you look at me, like you still love me, too? What if you think about me like this, but don't do anything about it because of my boyfriend? I feel awful. I'm in love with two people: 1) The supposed love of my life that doesn't show me as much love as you, doesn't make me laugh as much as you, doesn't make me as happy as you; or 2) You. I feel so much guilt for feeling this way. Maybe I don't love you. If I did, why wouldn't I just break up with him now? Why do I have to set limits on how far I can wither away in jealousy and disgust with a few slivers of content and happiness? Maybe I don't love you. Maybe I just love loving someone. But why does it have to be you? Your brown hair, hazel eyes, tall, slender figure? Why you? You make it so difficult. Though, in reality, aren't I the one making it difficult? I'm the one supposed to be in a happy relationship. I'm the one that has the freedom to break up with him. Why don't I? The highs are too high to think about it. I'll think about it for a while and think, "Yes, this is the way it has to be." 5 seconds with him and my heart melts. Is it me? Am I the issue? I don't know what to do. I'm trapped, torn, confused, guilty, and just mess. I don't know what to do. Maybe I'll figure it out soon. Maybe I won't have to. Maybe It'll all just work out without me having to do anything. Maybe that would make it worse. Maybe I'll stop thinking about you; just maybe.