I sat there bereft, wondering when it had happened. When I had fell. And why was it had to be this particular individual I had fallen for.
How was it possible? To give your heart over to someone who looked down upon the whole slew of you-females. I was so mad at myself, thinking, huh, my first crush and he thinks I am stupid. It hurt, and mostly made me mad.
Plus, I knew I was just the girl next door. I couldn’t shake it, though. Looking 12, and not spending and hour in front of the mirror, I wasn’t the same. I wasn’t like others who looked 18 and spent 2 hours in front of the mirror. If I happened to have time I covered up the acne in my T-zone and applied mascara, sometimes blush if I was doing well on time. I looked around and saw the girls with perfectly styled hair, perfect skin and perfectly made-up. And thought to myself, with so many other choices, why in the world would I ever be the select girl?
I tried to console myself by saying that surely when I was ready, the right guy would come along and like me as much as I liked him.
But no, I had to go and ruin it by falling for some guy who would most likely never like me back and who saw me as the girl next door. Always there, but never in the choices.
Sometimes I could console myself, and sometimes it made me frown.
I like everything about the guy, unlike any other, but I knew it was for naught.
And that hurt.
