In the 6th grade, I saw you in lunch. You had no clue I existed while all my friends knew how strongly I felt for you. That summer, I dug through the yearbook to find your name. I asked my friend who sat at your lunch table about you.
In the 7th grade, my best friend became friendly with you and eventually told you how I felt. She broke my heart with every conversation she initiated or hug she gave you. I never said a word but cried when I was alone.
In the 8th grade, each 11:11 was for you. We were in the same cycle. I would wait outside before class to catch a glimpse of you. My friends questioned how I retained such passion for someone I had never spoken a word to.
In my freshman year, I watched you in gym. I talked to my friends about how good you looked and how friendly you seemed. I faced the fact that I would never have a chance with you.
In my sophomore year, I entered a relationship with someone else.
In my senior year, I joined my friend’s lunch table which was yours, as well. We began talking briefly. I told my mom about you, explaining the irony that you finally entered my life once I was committed to someone else. But that commitment did not last much longer, and soon, I was with you. We grew knowledge about and love for one another. We were beautiful.
In my first year of college, you motivated me to better myself and follow my dreams. You showed me undying support and unconditional love. We were inseparable and we loved it. Everything I had ever wanted was mine.
This summer, you broke things off. We tried to make things work again, but to no avail. I still cry most days and pray things will somehow go back to how they were. I feel incomplete without your presence. I cannot sleep without you here. Each 11:11 is for you.