HE

He isn't a stranger, at least not for himself. He is a stranger to you, nonetheless. He watches you saunter inside the room and memorizes how you walk. He watches you from his chair trying hard not to let you notice. He smiles at every sight of you, at every adorable downward bending of your lips. He likes how you remove your earphones from your ear and the way you put them together around your neck.

At first, he wondered what was your name. Now, he is aware you play soccer. He knows some places you've been to, and he would love to know even more about you.

So he asks questions anonymously trying to get to know you. He wants to know how badly your heart had been broken so far and if it has been healed. He wants to know what makes you sad more than what makes you smile because he believes that there  are so many people in this world who'd care more about the latter than the first. He wishes to be one of the few to help you understand why sadness is essential. And he'd absolutely like to be there when it happens. He doesn't wish for that to happen, nonetheless. 

He'd like to be your friend, your companion. He wants to know your dreams, your weaknesses, your prayers and your fears, and see you through them.

Yes, he. He who likes you in silence. He who admires you from a chair. He who only wonders. He who'd like you to know. 

He who is I.