The fan spins round and round and round and round. Just like the way we go round and round, except with us, there are only two “rounds” because there are only two sides: we talk or we don’t. Yes or no. No in between, no grey area. Nothing more than black and white.

There’s no happy beginning, middle, or end to this story; for those involved, it was pure hell throughout.

When we met, it was nice. He was cute and I was shy. I was scared and you showed me that not all people are going to be mean to me. But a lot of people were mean to you and that was worse than people being mean to me. I wanted to trade you lives every single day. I really did love you, but eventually that faded and I just wanted to be your friend.

But you can’t be friends with someone you’re in love with. I really wish you could, but you can’t. Not talking to you for months was the worst point in my life. Even though I acted like I was so happy without you and I was perfectly fine and everything was perfect. I wish it would have been as easy as I made it seem.

Very few people know I still miss you, but I do. I miss you and think about you every day and I have to see you all day because we have a class together. A part of me hopes that next year we won’t have any classes together, but another part, God, the other part of me wants you to be in every single one of my classes and for us to be at least okay again.

Some days I just sit and cry and I almost call you and tell you I miss you and at this point I’m fairly sure you’d tell me that I’m too late. And that’s exactly what I deserve and will expect if I ever get the guts to call you when I’m sitting in my bed crying, looking at the old pictures we took on my computer. The first day I got it, you were at my house and we were sitting at the kitchen table after we had been paddle boarding and kayaking with my family and we took silly, stupid pictures like we always did because we were never serious.

When we were at my old house, I’ll never forget that. It was when we really, really, really fell in love. I’ll never ever forget that. I’ll also never be able to sleep in my old bed because when we went there last summer that’s where you slept. I stayed on the couch over winter break and I’m assuming this summer, that’s where I’ll be again. It wouldn’t feel okay. It probably still smells like you and I’ll probably just cry.

I wish we could sit down and talk one day. Like just us. Go out and sit somewhere at the beach or the book store and sit and talk about life and books and coffee and traveling and everything we still want to do, just maybe not together now. We could talk about our dreams like we used to. Maybe that would be the closure we both need or maybe that would remind us how awesome of friends we are and that we should totally just forget that we ever hated each other.

And I actually never hated you. Not one single bit. I wanted to hate you more than I’ve wanted a lot of things. I wanted to hate you as much as I wanted to win the last game of the season. The difference? I won the last game. I never hated you and I never plan on it.

The fan; it always goes round and round, but it always comes back until someone turns it off. I hope we end up like a fan. I hope we end up being friends again and then I hope one of us turns the fan off forever; this time, on the right side.