As I walk out of my Spanish 1 class, my sight is filled with hate of the teacher. She's truely a cruel, twisted human being. Just then I catch sight of him, my first love. His taller, skinny frame is decorated with lazy threads of brown/black hair and he has a jewel embedded in his eyes. That has to be the explanation for his calm, beautiful, shocking emerald eyes that still make my desolate heart skip. Those eyes look so sad, I want to save him. Wrap him up and tell him everything's going to alright. But I just CAN'T. He looks at me, registering the hate mixed with sadness for him. Shit. I'll beat myself up for that all day. Our shoulders brush and I suddenly remember everything we've been through. Our childish arguements and teasing in third grade and adorable squabbles. The growing up of fourth and fifth, the reality of the world crashing down upon our shoulders as we protected each other unknowingly. The developments of realizations of different genders in sixth grade (aka the crushes came). The hell of middle school. I can still remember biting back of tears as waves of radiating pain crash upon my naive heart as Nick accuses of not knowing me until sixth. He doesn't even remember the years we were true friends. He doesn't remember the day in sixth grade that we were heading to Song Leaders and he gave me his sweatshirt to keep me from being cold for five minutes. That was the day I realized he was that guy that frequently visited my dreams. Or dream guy. Whatever you want to call him. He physically resembled him astonishingly well but it wasn't exact. I shut off though. He COULD NOT know. Plus my best friend was in love with him. I already knew then that I'd rather shoot myself and watch as all my family drowned in grief then have them hurt from my own willing actions. Same thing but... Oh well. I forgot about it. I crushed on all the right guys at the exactly the right time. They were calculated. I close my eyes in reality, remember the wondrous feel of his cooling hand in mine. He cooled my spark. My heat that had always wanted to consume me. The passing stranger could never tell that we could've been made for each other. But if you knew us well and put us together side bye side, our physicality suited ourselves well. Nick was cool and dark, like his dressing and hair. He was scarred on the inside, just as on the out. But he to, had a beautiful attraction, his heart and soul, which was stored in his protective eyes. Me? I'm all fiery and fierce. I'm loyal and dramatic. I where my feelings on my sleeve and I'd do anything the save the people I love. This shows in my weary, knowing, cocky, mad blue, sparkling eyes. My fiery was shown in my tumble of falling golden waves that fell way below my shoulders and all about my roughed face. I was short and glitchy whereas he was tall and downright fast as a horse. He had been through bad things all his life. I'd gone through hell and said hi to the devel when I was six. But then I was saved. I wonder which was worse? We fell in love though. Over the summer. My mind races faster then his ever could, no matter what steroids it tried. I see jumbles of laughs and tears and mingled fingers and arms wrapped around each other. We KNEW each other. So why the abrupt ending? I think it's time I explained.
My mother did read the text and disliked the thought of me saying the word love so early in life. But she thought it was just a passing infatuation and allowed us to continue. But my heart shrunk back from his and I just needed a little space for a little while. And I got it and... It worked for me. Being alone suits me. I think a broke up with him because we were getting to the point in our relationship that we would say "I love you." I could text it fine, because I did feel it. But I also loved my parents dearly but I can barely say it to them!!! I can barely say it without the feeling of my skin screeching in protest. Love and I? We just don't add up right, and neither did Nick and I. He was a great guy, truely, and together we weren't so bad either. But... There was that peice missing. And without that piece, every relationship crumbles. I need that piece, no matter what else we had. I always wanted to cuddle nick up and tell him that it would be alright, or slap him right out of the black stone he's covered himself with. But I can't. We weren't made for each other like that. At least not yet. I hope he can forgive Me and himself. And more than anything, I hope he'll feel again and forget about me. I don't matter that much. I just want to know that he's alright.
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