asymptote

this story; it isn't mine. i'm a mere supporting role, albeit i actually am one in real life. a supporting system, in case anyone breaks and keels over.

whatever feelings i have for him regardless how faint, however nice he is to me, no matter how couple-y we act towards each other: it's not mine to have. it's not mine to savor. 

it's not supposed to be me.

the tugging in the back of my head doesn't matter, the yearning clenching my heart doesn't matter, the way i lean back to him and the way he plays with my hand doesn't matter.

because he's not mine to have and i am not his to have.

in this life, we're only best friends. i tell him about the crush i have on that boy with hair as unruly as ever and teeth brighter than his skin. he tells me about the thirty percent hope he has with the girl who used to like him and no longer does.

in this life, i support him and he supports me, being with other people. we feel happy for each other, being with other people. 

in this life, we belong with another. not each other.

i was fifteen when i met him. our lifelines almost cross, but it does not ever touch. my math teacher calls it asymptotes: a line that continually approaches a given curve but does not meet it at any finite distance. i call it limit as x approaches infinity: a limit is a number, but infinity, along with its symbol ∞, is not a number, and it is not a place.

and as it is parallel with this story, it is not a place i can reach.

my friends think i'm going to end up with him. i think not really.

because, as i have said countless times before, bukan jatahku.