You see a couple holding hands and you think of how lucky they are.
You see yourself in a mirror and you whisper, When will it be my turn?
Walking around the school, you pass friends in the hallway and say hi. It's a good day. You're feeling more bubbly than you normally are, and it is fantastic. It's the first time in a while you've felt this way.
You're sharing your sweet smile to everyone you pass by, and you zoom by your french test with speedy writing, more confident than ever. Passing your good friends in the hallway, you stop and talk to them for a few minutes.
"I'm in a good mood today," you state to them, smilingly.
They all share bright smiles and look at you proudly. It's the first time in a while that you honestly have felt 100% happy. It lasts until lunchtime.
Seeing him in the hallway is always great. Second period, day two, north hall, downstairs. You've got it memorized ("I'm not a stalker, gawd!"). Today, you talk to him, but you sure as hell see the back of his head walking past you while you talk to your friends.It amazes you, again, that all it takes to make you that much happier is to see the back of his freaking head. What is that? Honestly.
The next period is lunchtime and you don't see him at all. You wonder where he is and when he'll finally realize that the only reason you waste your time on him is because you believe in him. You don't even call it 'wasting your time'. You call it waiting.
Waiting, waiting, waiting (for something that'll never happen). And for now, even though you know, you're okay with that.
At lunch you sit with your friends, joke around, do some unfinished homework; the usual. You're still unbelievedly happy, cracking jokes here and there, even when the bastard of the group (I still love yaaa) makes stupid sarcastic comments at you.
Some of your friends get up and leave but you don't notice because you're talking to your best friends. Ten minutes later, they come back with news.
"Guess who's going out?"
I immediately guess your best friend and this super tall kid you're always telling her to go out with. She isn't there so that's your first guess to who it is. The game is fun; betting on who the next couple will be, making everything awkward for them. Things like that make your day.
When they tell you who, you're not surprised. You've heard about their drama before (people tell you like, everything. It's awesome).
It's the fourth couple in the past three days and while you're amazingly happy for them, you're also kind of upset.
When will it be my turn?
You've known the person you like for about five years. He was your first crush in middle school (I'm talking about crushes here) and you kind of like, really love the guy. He makes you happy in the easiest ways and the things he does with and to you don't piss you off like every other guy in the freakin' world.
He doesn't like you. You're sure. The way he talks to you isn't any different from the way he talks to anyone else. No, he doesn't like anyone else, but you're just sure that he'll never like you as more than family.
The little moments with him make your life, and although you've only got one class with him, you don't talk much (the teacher is a beeeeep).
You'll always remember that he's the only guy that's ever told you that you looked pretty. It was a big leadership conference and everyone had to dress up in formal attire. You wore this pretty silky black shirt with a belt and a cute skirt. Your heels made you confident, your hair looked good. You were kind of surprised of yourself.
"You look pretty," he tells you when he sees you. He smiles and looks into your eyes.
Just so he doesn't see how flustered you are, you smile, wickedly and reply, "So do you."
In the middle of a test, you put your hair up so it wouldn't bother you.
Later, he takes the hair tie in your hair and never gives it back.
You're kind of okay with that, but you always wonder why he took it.
Although you see these couples around you, holding hands, he's always kind of been enough.
You aren't dating him, that's a fact. But just being his friend and liking him at the same time is enough for you. It's kind of weird. You've always been kind of weird.
It's just him and his cute smiles and stupid jokes and for a minute you can imagine what it would be like to be with him. It's nice, not forced at all, kind of sweet, and kind of silly. You'd love that. He would too, you think.
But it won't happen. And for now, you're okay with that.
You're fighting. You've bantered, teased, and pulled each others hair, but you've never fought.
You're screaming. He is too. The backgrounds are blurred. All you see is his his anger.
And then it stops. And everything falls, along with his words.
"I hate you."
The screaming stops. You stop. Then you walk forward, slowly but patiently.
Placing you hand on one side of his cheek, you whisper in his ear, "I could never hate you."
Soft kisses. Below his ear, the side of his neck.
His whispers. "I hate you."
His chin, his cheek. Butterflies.
His whispers. "I hate you, I hate you."
Hovering above his lips, you pause.
His whispers. "Do it."
And then you wake up.
You think about the dream for weeks.
You try to make sense of it, but it doesn't work. You've asked all your really close friends, but all they say is, "Dreams are weird." You agree.
I mean, who says, "I hate you," then says, "do it." ? It makes no sense.
You eventually give up on it, knowing that if you dwell too much on dreams, you'll only lose even more hope in the end. You liked hoping; it gave you a sense of security.
It kept you happy.
By the end of the week, you're bubbly again. You've made it through the entire week, and to be honest, your mood wasn't even that bad. You didn't snap at your friends or drown in alcohol; you were just off. But now you're okay again!
You see him in the hallway and you decide that it wouldn't hurt to talk to him, but then his friends decide they want to leave. Another day without seeing his face.
As they're walking you away, you find that you don't really mind waiting longer to talk to him. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?
You turn to walk away from the scene, but soon he catches your eye. He waves his hand in greeting, smiles, and walks away with his friends.
Why do his small gestures make your day?
One day in math class he sits next to you in your table and you smile. Him and you are kind of inevitable like that. Even though you may not date, you'll still be really good to each other.
As you reach for his pencil case, you don't bother asking his permission to use his protractor (c'mon, like he would ask you). Leafing through the pencil case, you see it, but grab the wrong this as you pull it out. It's your hair tie from grade 8.
"Holy shit, you still have this?!"
He looks embarrassed, then says, "I was planning on giving it back, but I didn't know when."
You stare at it. It's your favourite lucky scrunchy. It has sequins and beads all over it, and your brother gave it to you as part of his Christmas present three years ago.
"Why did you take it from me, anyways?" You ask with more bravery than you thought you had.
He stares at you, then looks at your hair. You've put it down today, but it's usually up anyways.
Shifting uncomfortably, he says, "You look good with your hair down."
Oh, love, you've got my heart on restart all over again.
And even though you're still waiting, you have just a little more hope for the end, and that makes you happy.