I still remember the first day I saw you, dressed in your beige slacks and your blue button-down shirt. I thought you were a student from another school. You just looked so boyish, so young. You weren’t particularly attractive, either, but I was attracted to you, and I didn’t know why.
A few days later, I found out you were our student teacher, fresh out of college and extremely smart. Over the months I grew fond of you; you were an amazing teacher and understood me. You laughed at the jokes only I thought were funny, and you were genuinely interested in me. So I started to fall.
Soon, I was coming up with elaborate questions so I could visit your office. I took a ridiculously long amount of time on tests so I could see you after class. And I worked my butt off to prove to you that I was smart, that I was the one who was worth it.
I deluded myself into thinking that you loved me, too. After all, out of your numerous students, I was the one you had a nickname for, and every time I talked to you in front of my friends they swore we were destined. I was your favorite. It didn’t matter to me that you were 24 and I was 15. I thought true love would prevail.
But in time, I found out you had a fiancee. It didn’t even occur to me that you were in love with someone else, while I was mozying about in my dream world. And I slowly realized that I could never tell you how much I loved you, because it wouldn’t make a difference. I would still be the silly schoolgirl with the broken heart.
So here I sit, a whole year since I last saw you, and, though I know I’m being stupid and young, I still love you as much as I did last June. I still hope every day that I’ll bump into you walking down the street and we would talk and laugh like we used to. I know it’s futile, but I still do. And I know I can’t tell you this, and I know I never will. So here it is:
I love you. I love you with all my heart. I don’t know if or when I’ll stop. But right here, right now, I love you more than you could ever know.