I always, always miss you. I wish I could be with you at least those times when you want me to stay.
Not being able to spend time with you saddens me. Makes me feel strange, as though I'm letting a good opportunity slip out of my hands. I know that sounds very economised but heck, it is that!
As though it'll end and then I'll want those times back so that I can spend them with you.
I know it doesn't really matter but I cannot shake it off. I want to be with you not because I feel it'll end soon but because I feel, "what if it ends? Might as well enjoy it as much as I can now."
But even that saddens me. Is this love. Is this attachment.
"It's alright. I happens to me too. Hug."

I remember the first time I saw you. It was quick and fast. I didn't feel anything. I didn't even notice much. You came in. You sat two seats away from me. Maybe three. You rushed out.
Skip 5 days. Or less. Or more. I don't know.
I remember the second time. Somebody had told me, told us you were 'very cute'. I have this habit of falling for 'very cute' people. I did fall for you. But I did not realise it immediately.
Then the third time, the fourth. I don't know. One of them. Of of the others. That day when the four of us went to drink.
It was a strange day. I got high on half a glass of beer. It was sort of embarrassing. But it was fun.
Hooking up was proposed by a friend. I thought, "why not".
So I 'friended' you on a certain social networking site.
Wait. What date was it?
22nd March. Go figure how I know that.