Watching you from the other side of the hallway, I know you don’t notice me. In fact, you look right through me every time we pass each other. I know it shouldn’t bother me. I mean, we haven’t even met yet. But still, it would be nice to get to know you.


No, I’m not creepy. I don’t go home and write all about you in my diary every day. I barely even think about you when you aren’t even within twelve steps of me. So please don’t think of me like some freaky stalker girl in your school. I’m just not like that.


Actually, it would be better if you didn’t think of me at all.


If you want to blame anyone for the mess you’ve put me in, blame yourself. Blame yourself for being so nice, so smart, so pretty. Blame yourself for wearing the right amount of makeup, and clothes that fit you perfectly. You can even blame yourself for your gorgeous smile, and that laugh that reminds me of bells or wind chimes.


And I can blame myself for noticing them.


Nobody knows that I want to get to know you. Nobody even notices when my eyes are glued to you. They just think I’ve spaced out or something.


Wait, did you just look at me? I can feel my face turning red because I know that you did. You wink at me, and my blushing increases. But you’d never suspect the real reason as to why I was staring at you in the first place.


Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re oblivious. It’s just that not many people think of girls liking other girls. Sometimes, I see you holding that girl’s hand. I don’t know who she is, but you two seem really close. Do you like her? Maybe you’re dating her, and I shouldn’t even try to get you to notice me.


Actually, who cares if you like her? Because today, you smiled at me. Today, you found out I existed.


Maybe, you won’t look through me anymore. Not since you’ve learned to see me.


Then again, maybe you will.