I don’t even know how to start this. I’m supposed to be doing homework, but I can’t get you off my mind. Even after telling myself again, and again, and again that it has to stop. It’s not healthy. Every time I look at you now I feel a thousand needles stabbing my heart out. Love is like a badly trained acupuncturist: It’s supposed to be good for you but in the end it just hurts like hell. So I guess I’ll start there. Right now, to me, you’re an ass. And the worst thing is that I know you’re not. You’ll probably never know how much this whole thing has killed me, never think twice about all the Facebook messages and jokes. Because this is all my fault. I like to play mind games with myself. Oh don’t worry, he does like you, he’s just shy, his parents don’t like him dating, don’t worry, you won’t get hurt. That could never, ever happen…
It was the opposite off all my past problems. Before, I jumped in barely knowing a guy and jumped ship soon after. So I told myself this time I’d be his friend, that I wouldn’t be stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So I got to know you and I liked what I saw. Of course I probably didn’t see anything but a brick wall in front of your real self. I don’t even care, that’s not what’s tearing me apart. So I’m your “friend”. I message you at every possible and logical occasion I can come up with, if I bake something, I immediately reserve one for you. And I dig myself a deeper grave with every second. So I invite you to come to the place I work so you can eat the yummy food there. Honestly I didn’t even think about this in any other way, all my other friends had come and tried the food, so I thought you’d want to too. But you were going to Virginia to see your family. But! My mind says, he said that he was sad, that he had wanted to go before you left for a month for your vacation, that it was going to be so long. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I get back after a month, he’s still in Virginia. Then he’s sick. Barfing up everything and the kitchen sink. For three. Whole. Weeks. Did you go to the doctor, no? Because barfing for three weeks is normal, right? I honestly should’ve seen it coming.
You’re in orchestra. So is she. I saw it coming, I swear I did. And this is possibly the worst part of liking someone who doesn’t really notice you too much: you can see how much they notice others. You called her playing amazing. You barely care about me being in top band. I didn’t win any awards or anything but still. I feel like a jealous 5 year old when I say this, but I matter too… She practically has her own fan club. Well screw you too. So you never get back to me on the food. Whatever, you’re missing out. I’m not even angry anymore, just disappointed. And then when I start talking to my friend about it she just tops off this whole unknowing rejection with the whipped cream and cherry on top. You asked her to homecoming as “friends”. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid me, for thinking things could actually work out for once in the love department of my life. Stupid me. That never works out, I should’ve known better, but I didn’t and now I can’t look at you anymore without wanting to cry. You’re in my English class too. We write journals every Monday. You’ve been all of them. But the worst thing. The absolute worst thing, is that if you came and asked me to do anything, I’d do it. I’m not over you yet, and it’s killing me every second. I think of you when I wake up, I think of you when I go to sleep. I think of you when I eat, think that if I was skinnier, if I didn’t have that one pimple, if my eyes weren’t uneven, that then you would’ve noticed me. Do you understand how much this is killing me?
Your one and only Mary