Every night I go to bed thinking about you. Sometimes, I fall asleep smiling; other times, I slip away in tears. I stay up late now because I like to analyze every situation that involves you. It's also because I want to put off the dreams. I hate those dreams. They won't go away. Yet when I don't have them, I wake up mad. When I can't remember my dreams, I know there's a possibility you were there; it makes me want to cry, both from frustration and because I actually want to remember. Your name pops into my head as soon as I wake up. I see your face there, shining, and I can't stand it. On the bus, I don't talk to anybody. I think of you. I wish you were there. I wish you would offer me a ride to school in your truck. I wish I didn't wish that. I get to school, and I take the long way to my class in hopes of seeing you. I never have, but I won't stop. I take longer at my locker in case you pass. You don't. In class, I can't concentrate. You have overtaken my brain. Because I hang onto everything you say, everything makes me think of you. I want you to just leave, get out of my head. But I like you there. I wish I was in your head. I wish you thought of me this much. I wish you knew. I'll never tell you. When I talk to my friends, I avoid your name completely. They can't know. They probably do, but I like pretending. It's easier this way. You probably know, but you've never asked. I hope you do so I can deny it. I'll make it obvious, though, because you deserve to know. You deserve to know everything. I go to lunch in hopes of sitting by you. My friends are there, too, though. I want them to leave. I want it to be us. Always just us. It never will be though. I have to accept that. You don't even know. When the lunch bell rings, my heart drops, just like every time I see you. The bell means goodbye. I hate goodbyes. The further I get away from you, the more my stomach settles down. You have that effect on me. I love it, but I wish it would go away. Back to class means back to thoughts of you. I do my work, but I don't know what I do. I'm like a zombie. It's your fault for being perfect. Please, stop being perfect. It gives me nightmares. The bell rings and it's time to go home. I hate home because there's no chance of seeing you. It's just me and my thoughts of you. I go to sleep as soon as I get home because I might dream of you. I hope I don't, but I still go to sleep. Besides, if I don't, I might text you. If I text you, I might say something stupid. If I say something stupid, you might not like me anymore. You only like me as a friend; I don't know why I care. It's not what I want -- our friendship -- but it is what I need. My dad gets mad that I sleep everyday. When he yells at me, it means nothing. I would get yelled at for you. I wonder what you would do for me. Then, it's nighttime again, and I'm back where I started. I love you. You feel nothing for me. This hurts. I don't want it to stop.
I Hate You, I Love You
February 4, 2010