Young Writers Society

So, I wrote about my crush. Yeah, I just did.

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It was almost ridiculous to see how gullible the boy was. Even the silent gods laughed, mocking, pointing fingers at the poor tyke under the magical spell named love. He would look far away from the one he fancied from the crowd, glancing looks deep into their facial features.

He wasn’t a creep, but he would admit he liked staring at people deep into their eyes. There was some fun in scaring people by staring soullessly, but it was also for his selfish desire. He wanted attention sometimes or wished that other people would notice him. After all, he was nothing but a shadow in the crowd. Who loves shadows or even staring into one for a long time? No one did.

So what did he do when his desire waved back at him, greeting him with a smile? He still remembers the time when it all happened, it was in the middle of Physic Class, and his heart skipped a beat. His outer appearance kept posture, smiling back awkwardly and waving his hand like a decent gentleman, but inside, he panicked.

He couldn’t stand what he witnessed very well. The fact that the person he fancied greeted him with a wave or saw his cheerful grin made his day. The boy stayed positive the entire day, daydreaming about how he would feel holding hands with them. How would it feel? He never held hands with his parents often, so he has forgotten the feeling of being touched.

Then the class quickly passed by. The boy realizes he was dreaming the entire day, sleeping during the lesson. The teacher told everyone to leave the classroom as the bell signaled, as other children filled the cramped hallways, squishing each other. Then the boy realized the teacher didn’t call or scowled at him for sleeping.

But the teacher was able to see everyone. There were no blind spots that covered his sight. The teacher had an omniscient view. Did the teacher attempt to wake the boy up, but he slept deeply, imagining a false fantasy?

Walking down the hallways, he saw the gloomy weather outside the window. It was raining cats and dogs, grey skies covering the sun’s radiance and making all things under grow sorrowful. The boy paused his music from his ears as he continued chatting with his idealistic self, talking about several mundane topics. Despite the boring stories they talked about, the boy was happy.

The next period was World History. He was a bright student (but was not the sharpest out of the pencil case), as the class he had was an Honors Class. He was interested in learning about the past, how humans have lived, and talking about lost civilizations and the daily lives of people who had past away.

Why were things from the past so exciting? Why did he not love the present or the future? He had no idea why he was obsessed with learning about the old days, but that was something else he could worry about later. There were other important topics to discuss. Such as his disastrous self.

He knew he should not be breaking down from someone unless he consented. He would not stay defeated like this from thinking about someone. He had five more hours to survive in a chaotic life of various choices and noises.

The boy walked confidentially with his problems chasing him behind throughout the lesson for World History.