I like you. I like you so, so so very much. And sometimes I dare to wonder and hope that you like me too. We have so much in common. Whenever I get to see you and talk to you I feel comfortable and giddy and everything all at once. We share the same beliefs, which makes you seem so much more attractive to me then if you didn’t. You, quite frankly, are hot. But you are the best person I have ever met. Whenever I’m not even trying I think of you, and I focus all my attention on not staring at you. I literally forget that there are other people around us when we talk. You give me butterflies like you would never believe.
But then I have to remind myself that you would never go for me, when you are a senior. You’re that nice to everyone. You’re good friends with so many other girls. I just moved here. You probably like that one girl, the one who gets picked for everything. Why would you ever, ever go for me when you could have her? I’m just another girl. I’ve been trying so hard to deny that I like you, that we’re just friends, that I could never like you. But here I go.
So I’ll just be here, trying not to love you.