I want you.

I want you; perhaps more than I've ever wanted anyone or anything else at any other time in my life. Everyday I lay awake in my bed at night wondering if you meant what you said when you told me you like me too. My head is telling me that I'm just stupid and if you liked me you'd show it or do something about it but you aren't and you haven't yet so I've been left with the conclusion that after years of convincing myself I'm not crazy, I in fact am. Crazy for thinking that a boy like you could like a girl like me. There's been other times I told myself I would stop this; stop myself from liking you. Give up. But every time I think I'm finally getting close to being over you and this infatuation I have with what we could be; we make eye contact for just one second, and all my feelings that I worked so hard to neglect come rushing back into my thoughts and I'm hooked. You say you're waiting for when the time's right but there's never a right time for anything. You don't know this, but I'm giving you a week. A week to decide whether or not you want me. If you decide you do then I promise I will do everything I'm capable of too make you happy. And if you decide you don't atleast the mind consuming confusion will end and we'll both be able to get on with our lives. I know a week isn't long, but being patient never was my best quality.