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It was in our senior year in high school when I finally admitted to feelings to myself; I remember what it felt to like to not be loved by you.
We had a rough patch that year. Our lives took a sudden turn; we never the same around each other. I don't blame any of us; maybe we were just growing apart.
Your grandmother passed away two weeks before classes started. I remember how much you loved her; she was like a second mother to you. Sometimes I think about her when I'm making snacks for the children I babysit.
"Remember, it's important to have each other's backs," she said.
My family was torn apart. After years of being in the dark, my father came clean to us. He had an affair with a woman from his office. My mother became bitter and cold. My sister didn't continue her studies. My relationship with my father was never the same.
At school, your friends found out about my crush on you. They managed accounts on different social media about the gossip that went around.
My secret was there. I tried to talk to you about it, but you changed the topic quickly.
At the rink, Coach kept pressuring us to make excellent performances. In my defense, we were both exhausted.
Maybe we should have talked to Mr. Sakil about our problems. After all, he was a good man, and he cared deeply about our wellbeings.
"Get your things together, and when you do, call me," he yelled, glaring our way. "I'm not here to waste your time and mine."
I longed for your touch and comforting words when we finished skating, but you didn't spare me a glance.
A girl from our class would be in the stands cheering for you; you gave her the brightest smile.
I thought that smile would be for me only. I thought wrong.
