And I Asked Myself

B******F****

He's an asshole

A womanizer

A bully

I hate him

I would roll my eyes as he passed me in the hall. I would glare at him from afar. At least he wasn't in my class. That would be so much worse.

Summer Vacation

First Day of School

I'm sitting at my desk. I look around the room. I spot his b***** hair out of the corner of my eye. It's him, B****** F****. I feel nothing. My hate for him has melted away over the hot summer. The teacher assigns seats. Her monotone voice, carrying throughout the room. She says my name. A minute later she says his. He is two seats ahead, in the row to the right of me. I think nothing.

Weeks go by. I turn in homework. Take notes.

I start to notice something about him. He's different. He's changed. He sits at his desk quietly. 

He turns in homework. Takes notes.

I watch him some more. During our free hour, he makes jokes. I quiet my laugh. I see him outside during recess. He talks with friends. His back straight. His hands in his pockets. I wonder what high school he'll go to.

I give him a paper when he runs out. I smile when he talks to me. I wonder if he knows that I like him. I want him to know. I'd die if he knew. I'm not his type. What if I am?

Months go by. He finds out. I die inside.

He asks me if its true. I ask him who told him. He doesn't say. I think I know.

I act like I'm over it. Like I'm over him. I'm definitely not.

He asks for paper, I say I don't have any. He talks to me, I don't smile.

I stop watching him during recess. I stop wondering what high school he'll go to.

He makes jokes in class. I don't laugh.

I turn in homework. Take notes.

I spy at him out of the corner of my eye

I look down when he passes me in the hall

I only glance at him from afar

I wish he wasn't in my class. It makes it so much worse.

He's a sweetheart

A nice guy

A jokester

I love him

Years later I sit AND I ASK MYSELF puppy love or real love. Fondness or Hate.