I feel like I'm in middle school again. That should scare people, not make them swoon. Middle school is the worst; you always run into the "does he like me?" bit. I hate that bit. I want that bit to die a most painful death. I have no problem saying what I'm thinking; it's how you will react that scares me. Shocker. I'm seriously blowing minds right now with this behavior. The problem is, I've not cared about someone this much since... But he destroyed me and that's why I still think of him.
The first guy I ever fell for, I was 6. He would give me hugs everyday. Does this sound ridiculous yet? In forth grade, we started the trend of talking to each other everyday for extended periods of time. Luckily, by the time I was in sixth grade, MySpace was a thing; so the conversations could transfer into the late hours. It wasn't long before I discovered the wonders of the telephone, and how many hours I could spend on it before my parents realized they should invest in something called "line two". But we talked about everything. Obviously, there was no choice in the matter. I remember sometimes being completely silent while listening to you play guitar. Or watching movies at the same time and yelling about how we hate when people talk during movies; but we were still on the phone. I remember countless hours of tears, mostly happy but also sad, that I shared with you. When AIM became popular, we were on the phone while AIMing in groups with our friends. Tight pants, Green Day, and long blond hair. And I loved you. High school came along and by then, things had already changed. AIM wasn't a thing. Texting was. MySpace was replaced by a face of books. You no longer called, neither did I. We'd just stare. Until the day I stared too long, on purpose. I wanted you to stop and that did it. I didn't want to love you anymore. I didn't want a small hope. I didn't want you. So from then on, we didn't associate with each other. I went though high school, alone. It was better that way; things in my life started to get really messy. If you would've walked away then, it would've made me worse. Graduation came and I remember the last look we shared. You were giving your speech. Because my name couldn't get more generic, I was dead center. You couldn't miss me and you didn't. And that's when it happened, when we officially parted ways. It wasn't painful. But I think about those talks and I miss them. I miss my best friend that I was madly in love with.
Now I'm 22. The names the same and unfortunately so is the game. We talk and text all of the time. What are you? I really like talking to you, but I can't afford another nick.