I watch you. Yes, I know how that sounds. You have an image of me now, don't you? I would. Classic infatuated geek. Pale, wearing a green cable-knit sweater, wiry glasses that don't fit my moon-shaped face. You're wrong, but that's alright. I don't watch you from behind an advanced calculus book and write our names entwined on its torn pages. I would like to, of course. But I like to pretend I don't need anyone. Occasionally i write your name surrounded by hearts, but only late at night when the moon glints in the sky like a floating raindrop. I write it on a page of old Basic Algebra notes and then tear the page up quickly. I try not to be a cliche, you see. I consider myself above the average obsessed school girl. An arrogance on my part, a feeling of superiority that is entirely undeserved.
I watch you across the smoke filled rooms that we swatch our lives go by in. Rooms with action figures on the windowsills, The Beatles posters on the wall and tequila hidden in the wardrobe are the rooms in which my adolescence have been spent. I seem to always be around boys and all the girls hate me bacause I am that girl who always hang aorund with boys. I have seen you with boxers on your head playing air guitar. I don't have a chance in hell. Other, more attractive boys sit beside me on the couch and whisper comments in my ear that I would otherwise find witty. However, when you are in the room I find myself more entranced with the tendrils of black hair that hit the top of your black t-shirt.
Most people when asked to describe you eye color would say "Grey? Maybe blue? Both?". I know they are the exact color of raindrops just before dawn. I have seen a hundred boys smoke. Yet everytime you do it, I get chills. You look just like a rockstar and yes, I know how that sounds, too. All the girls throw themselves at you. They whisper their crushes to me. Ask me who you like, where you'll be next friday night, if they have a chance. Afterwards we drink vodka and make fun of them. Everytime we do that, my stomach hurts after from forcing laughter. I am one of those girls. I can't stand the thought that I would be just another groupie.
Your presence, or lack thereof, can make or break my night. Without you, my night is just another spent in good company, drinking coke and playing pool. When you are there, the night takes on whole new meaning, becomes a game, an opportunity. I have never had anyone control me liek this, so unknowingly, so easily. I live to make you laugh and I would give anything to make that feeling go away. I hope everyday that I will break free from the love that binds me to you and everyday I am again disappointed. You are the only boy I have loved who hasn't loved me back and you are the only one that has ever mattered.
I know that sometimes I will love people and they will not love me back. I know that sometimes no matter how hard I love you or how hard I try to make you love me, you will not feel the same. I know that I will have to accept that. I don't feel ready to let go of my feelings for you, no matter how much it tears me apart. I will just sit here, beneath the moon, smoking your cigarettes and listening to your voice. Because the only person that heals the pain you give me is you. And, yes, I know how that sounds.
