She hummed the song while she was washing the dishes. It was the song that had too many versions she didn't even know which version was the original anymore. Pardon the way that I stare - true; she had always stared at the boy she liked; There's nothing else to compare - true; there were times when the boy seemed like the most beautiful thing on Earth; The sight of you leaves me weak - true; sometimes, she admitted shyly; There are no words left to speak - true; she didn't feel the need to explain this beautiful feeling of liking someone so much.
Wait - what's the next line? She thought.
And if you feel like I feel, please let me know that it's real.
And she stopped humming. That didn't sound right (she meant that it did, but the meaning didn't). She wondered why the songwriter put his/her words that way.
And, when millions of people were swooned by the song, she felt insulted by that one line. If you feel like I feel? No - her feelings were the most authentic feeling to her she doubted if someone else could feel the same. And besides, could Angelina Jolie love Brad Pitt the same way as Juliet loved Romeo? The extent might be the same, but they would never have the same way. And her mind wandered to all those goodnight wishes she sent him and how she worried if he had a good meal after a long day working. The feeling - it must be entirely different from what anyone else feels.
And isn't unrequited love the most beautiful of all? the question popped into her head. Because it's enough for you to love someone without requiring the same from him or her. Because his or her happiness might lie with someone else but it means your own happiness, altogether. She smiled, shyly, again.
If only she could preserve her feelings in a sterile jar and take it out at night - the jar would have glimmered with all sorts of colours. And she wondered how everybody else's would be.