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Look At Me

by Razor To Rosary

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I look at you everyday, but I really don't think you look at me that much.

Do I love you?

I don't know, maybe. I don't think so, though.

When I first met you I thought I had seen you before somewhere else. The first thing I noticed was your nose. I'm sorry, but it's quite... noticeable. Don't worry, I don't think about that now.

You were obviously smarter than everyone else but me. It's not cockiness, but I'm quite smart, and you were too. At the time, I thought of you as a rival, kept a mental score of everything we did right, or of everything you did right and everything I did wrong. I was depressed then. I'm not anymore, I guess. I'm not sure.

One day, I lent you a book and I heard you say my name for the first time. I think I went home crying that day (don’t remember why anymore), but then I stopped because I remembered the way you said my name.

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You slowly started to talk to me. And I started to talk back. And judging every single word I said in front of you, and thinking it couldn't have sounded more stupid.

I'm always terrified you'll catch me looking at you. I look at you a lot when you're not looking at me... had I mentioned that? Sometimes I see you looking at me from the corner of my eyes, but I think I'm just delusional.

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After some time, I started hearing things in the girls' locker room that made me wanna cry (yes, I do cry a lot). I had seen you with her, and you talked to her so much, all day, every day, and I couldn't tell you how much I hated her, and her stupid voice. I still hate her voice. And her accent. Stupid.

But then I would look at you, I would see your eyes looking for mine, and they would meet for two seconds, and ten thousand of your smiles to her would be erased from my memory. Slowly, you and her stopped sitting so close and talking so much, and I still remember the day you looked at her for the last time. At least, the way I want you to look at me.

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You said I was your friend one day, and I didn’t know if I should either laugh or cry.

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I think about you all the time. I live in permanent fear that someone finds out. I could never look at you again if you found out. I’m so glad people can’t hear my thoughts. I feel an urge to kiss you every ten minutes, if that.

I wish I knew what you think when you look at me. She’s nice, she’s pretty, she’s smart, she’s smarter then me (is this an issue?), she’s anti-social, she’s got no personality, she’s a geek, she’s nice, I like her, I wish I could kiss her.

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We had been talking a lot more. I like to hear your voice. I like the way you look into my eyes when you talk to me. I like when you ask me things you don’t know and I answer you. I like it even more when I don’t answer and you say thanks anyway.

I thought everything was getting better, but one day it changed.

I knew your best friend. She’s nice, I like her a lot. I can’t stop liking her and that pisses me off. I would like to be more like her. You even have a handshake with her! Well, you taught me that handshake, but the way you do it with her... I’ve seen it, it’s special.

You talk to her so much. You look at her even more. But I understand, I mean, she’s just like me, but better.

I wish I could walk around with my arm linked to yours too.

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I feel like time is running out... and I know it is. I just hope this isn’t over yet.

Not now.

I wish that, just once, you would look at me. Really, really, look at me.

What would you see?

What do you see?

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A/N: Here it is: my first FictionPress story! Just something that popped in my mind a while ago... today I found it and decided to finish it. I've got one more story that I'd like to post, but it's still being written. Hope you liked this one! I intended it to tell the story shortly and abstractly. I'm very happy with the result!

So, any thoughts, comments? I appreciate constructive criticism! Please review!

Yours,

Barbara