cant stop thinking about him

It’s crazy how one wall can feel so thin.

He lives right next door.
Not above me. Not somewhere down the hallway.
Right there. One wall away from my bed.

Sometimes I catch myself lying completely still at night, wondering if he’s on the other side doing the exact same thing. If our beds are pressed against the same wall. If there’s only a few centimeters between us.

Yesterday I heard him laugh.
Soft. Low. Close.
Close enough that it didn’t feel like a sound — it felt like a presence.

I tell myself I’m being dramatic.
But then why do I freeze every time I hear his keys in the lock?

Why do I suddenly care what I look like when I take the trash out?

Tonight I leaned against that wall. Just for a second.
Cool surface against my skin.
And my heart was beating so loud I almost laughed at myself.

What if he was on the other side too?
What if he could feel the vibration of my music?
What if he knows I’m awake when he gets home late?

We’ve barely exchanged a real look. Just one almost-accidental glance in the hallway. But the tension? It’s not accidental.

It’s quiet.
It’s subtle.
It’s driving me insane.

One wall between us.
And somehow it feels like the smallest distance in the world.