It was the fall that surprised me the most. Not a quick dip and it's over-No, it was a slow, painful, frightening decline. Every little glance, every whisper, her giggle which carries across the room, would have me slipping deeper and deeper into this hopelessly unrequited attraction. My ordinarily suave nature just dissipates when she appears, and I turn into this bumbling old goon. It's awful. And it's still happening. As we speak, my heart flutters at the thought of her, and I feel my hold on things tanlgiloosen. I am falling. And there is no escape. I only hope when I inevitably reach the bottom, the end, there is some sort of peace waiting for me, because I cannot take these cliches, and these butterflies. But I am beyond hope now.