A fool in love

When I first saw you on the first day of secondary school, I knew I had a crush on you. To find out that we were in the same class was utter bliss for my 11 year-old self. We even sat together in some classes, like English, Art and Science. I have such fond memories of being told we would be separated if we didn’t stop talking and just talking about things that didn’t matter in the slightest. 

Two and a half years later and I still have a crush on you but I’m moving a hundred miles away. So what does 14 year old me do? She tells you in the most cringey message that she has a crush on you. The polite thing to do in this situation is to say ‘That’s cute, but I only ever saw us as friends.” You might think well how is this polite? She might as well know the truth? No. If you tell her the truth then you fill her head with possibilities that are never going to happen. Why did you tell me the truth? 

I have lived in my new house for three years. I have made friends, lost them, made more and lost more. I have been horrible, bitchy, nasty to people and I have been kind and caring concerned. People have put me in humiliating situations, I have had my first kiss with a guy I convinced myself that I liked because my friends wanted me to and I have kissed a guy to lead him on when I have no intention of dating him. People make mistakes, and some days I think of things I have done and wonder how anyone puts up with me. These thoughts have caused me to shrink away into isolation and distance myself from my friends and family. These thoughts make me think of you. Why? Because I’m not over you. I never was. Probably because I have moulded you into Mr. Right. The perfect guy. Maybe it was puppy love at first, maybe it turned into something more but now I just love the idea of you. I can see that but I can’t change it. I tried. But those guys I mentioned earlier? I started to compare them to you and then everything they did was wrong. 

I know you’re not reading this. You’ll never see it and even if you did you wouldn’t know it was about you. But look at what you’ve done. So absent-mindedly as well! You’ve turned me into such a cliche! It’s laughable. The issue in the issue is that when I think of you, I miss you, even if it’s just the memory of you. When I don’t think about you, I just feel numb. That wasn’t such an issue until I couldn’t keep up the idle smile and the cheery attitude. People started to notice when I snapped and scowled at their comments, shutting myself out from my friends and family. Too often have I found myself complaining about exhaustion when all I do is sleep.

“You’re putting your friends in an awkward situation.””No one knows where they stand with you.””You’re not trying.” These are all things that my friends have said to me. Probably unfamiliar sayings to you. But to me, they are all too common. Except they are wrong. My friends need only find the balls to ask me if everything is all right and I will shatter before them, begging for help. To say I am not trying is an unobserved comment. If they could walk ten steps in my mind and understand the effort not to scream at irritating people and unconcerned parents, to pick up the slack of my peers when I am doing more than my fair share of the work without recognition, if they knew what it was like to sleep for more than their fair share and feel like they haven’t slept at all, then they might know that I am trying my hardest, that I am spent trying to keep a calm guise. Of course there are many secrets behind closed doors and they al have their own problems but I just need them to understand that my reluctance to speak in a conversation that has nothing to do with me or to go to a party where i will not speak to anyone is off putting. Then they might understand why i shut myself in my room and read all day or I come back to thinking of you. 

Except they probably don’t remember you. The only mention of you came a year ago when I broke up with first kiss saying that, “It’s not working but I can’t tell you why because its stupid.” That night they ushered me into the conservatory and asked me what was stupid. “he better be worth it.” they said. Are you? Is this memory of a crush worth all the late nights and excuses? Clearly, I have bigger problems and yet you occupy my thoughts more than my broken friendships. Thinking about you is an escape from that. You’re no longer a real thing, just a thought, just a memory. At least that’s what I tell myself until I see you on Snapchat and you like my photos on Instagram. All the feelings flood back and I remember a time when you liked me too and I was an idiot.

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