I think I love you. Is that bad, never having talked to you? But either way I can’t help it. That first day of driver’s ed I sat next to you, partially because it was an open seat and i was flustered, but partially because I noticed how cute you were. We never talked. I don’t even know if we even sat next to each other again, but I know that now we don’t. I wish that dumb lax bro didn’t sit between us.
I wish we were partnered together on little projects. Then I could comment on your incredible artistic ability and strike up a conversation. I love how artsy you are. I love how one day you folded little paper cranes out of a spare piece of paper. I love how you look, how you talk, the squinty face you make in the sun. I love how you’re a bit sick and you bring tissues and cough drops in your pockets.
I notice you. Everything about you, I see it. And it just makes me fall more in love with you. I wish you’d notice me staring. I wish you’d walk over to me and start talking. I wish it wouldn’t be awkward.
But tomorrow’s our last day. And I want to ask you so bad. Why does it take so much courage to ask you to walk to Starbucks with me on our break? Why, whenever I even think about it near you, do you have the uncanny ability to make my heart stop, and make speech totally unrealistic? Why do I make so many excuses on why not to do it, when I should be making excuses on why to?
I wish you could sense the battle raging in my head every day, on whether to talk to you or not. I wish you were battling out the same thing in your head, and more than anything, I wish you would choose to talk to me.
I always wonder who you’re texting. Your girlfriend? Just anyone to make you look busy and not awkward (just like I do)? Or a friend, like mine that I text everyday, that’s trying to convince you to talk to me, threatening not to talk to you over it? I hope it’s that last choice. I pray it is.
But tomorrow’s our last day. Our last chance. My last chance. I want to ask you so bad to walk to Starbucks and I might. But I might not. But please if I do, even if you don’t like me, let it not be awkward. That’s my biggest fear, more than you not liking me. I want to make a good impression so maybe you’ll realize how much you do like me. I know it’s desperate, that I’m desperate. But if it all fails, all never have to see you again. And if it all works, hopefully I will.
But face it. We’re perfect for each other, or at least you’re perfect for me. All your little quirks make me see, everyday, how much I want to be with you. I want to snuggle on your couch, watch sad movies together and have you comfort me when I cry, and tell me I’m beautiful, even when the tears are pouring down my face. I want to kiss you, and have you kiss back. A pure, innocent, but passionate kiss. One that takes your breath away and makes you think “I love this person.” I want that more than anything in the world.
So we’ll see what happens tomorrow.
If it works, well, you know what I want. But I doubt you’ll be reading this.
If it doesn’t work, or I don’t follow through, and by some miracle you read this and know who I am… wow. Hopefully you like me as much as I like you (and hopefully I haven’t moved on in that case), and if you do, and you care enough, you’ll find a way to find me. See you soon?