Out of My Mind

I could not stop looking at him.

I do not blame myself for this. It’s just that I cannot help but admire the way his broad shoulders move when he laughs; the way his muscles tense under the black t-shirt he is wearing that does nothing but accentuate the muscles underneath; the way his hair stands up in a crazy, untamed mess. I imagine myself running my fingers through his hair, trying to smooth the soft strands down on his head.

And still, it does not matter what he wears, or how he looks. He is still so beautiful to me.

I know it sounds weird to call a guy ‘beautiful’, but I am simply stating the truth. He is so, so beautiful, it hurts.

Of course, he does not notice me. He is too busy talking and laughing with his friends—too busy to notice that I am longing for him, every second of every minute of every day, from afar.

It has always been like this. From the moment I saw him walk through the door of my homeroom class on the first day of freshman year, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, a shy half-smile on his handsome face, and his lean—yet muscular—physique not even the least bit slouched, I was out of my mind.

And even then, he never noticed me.

It has been three years and countingthe seasons coming and goingand as I continue to look—stare—at him, I know that nothing has changed. I know that things will always be this way; me, the lonely, invisible girl longing for him, the boy who will never once take a glance at me no matter what I do.

With my hair falling like a curtain around my face, I touch the pendant hanging from the necklace on my neck.

And I stare on.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s