It's weird actually, to like someone, to feel attraction over someone who you've barely ever spoken to or haven't spoken to at all. It's absolute torture, it leaves you with so many questions and makes you fantasize so much over this one person.

It's funny, when you make those crazy scenarios inside your head thinking that one day, just one day they'll actually happen, and it disappoints you when they don't. You spend your time thinking about him; thinking that he would actually be into you one day. Of course, nobody is impossible but he makes it look and feel so difficult when in reality; it's just you in the back, feeling so weak when you see him walk by looking so damn good as usual, making your body tense, your sensibility weak and your heart thud so fast that it makes you feel like you're going to pass out, but you don't, because he keeps you up, some how, he keeps you alive.

Just looking at this person makes your entire day. The details of his outfit, such as, he wore a green shirt today and damn didn't he look good; or how about his laugh, how he smiled widely and let out the most beautiful sound you've ever heard as he was with his friends, how much vulnerablity he was showing and the best thing about it, is that you were able to capture that beautiful scene inside your head. Suddenly it becomes a memory, one you'll never erase.

Days go by, suddenly they become months and you still haven't built up the courage to speak to him. He's right there, he walks by your locker or by you in the hallway; and all you wish is that he, he would finally notice you and somehow start a conversation with you; thats until you notice he's right in front of you, looking straight at you with confusion all over his face, that is when you notice he just said something to you, something you didn't hear because you were stuck staring into his eyes. You ask him to repeat his sentence, hoping he asked you out, and that is when you realize that all he wanted was for you to move aside or maybe pass him the pencil he just dropped, so then it hits you, he will never notice you, all those made up stories in your head are just that, stuff that will never happen.

And one day he will look at another girl, the way you wished he would look at you. He will hold her hand across the hall and kiss her under the rain, but she will never be you.

This is all thanks to the cowardice inside you. For not speaking up, for not taking first base. All thanks to the fear.

You will always live with the doubt, with questions and a heartbroken memory, and the worst part of it all is, you broke your own heart.