He only said one word to me. He called my name- he whispered it softly, just softly enough so that I could hear it. I knew that he was behind me, but I would not let myself turn around. I would not let myself look into those beautiful eyes of his, because I knew that whenever I looked into those eyes, my world fell into place, and everything was right, and everything was perfect. I knew that once I looked into his eyes, I would have no control. So, I spoke to him, first in a whisper. I said his name, and it rolled off of my tongue, as heavy as a bowling ball. I spoke to him, not facing him, that one word like an arrow being shot at a moving target. I wanted to tell him everything- I wanted to tell him that his very presence pained me, because he would never feel for me what I felt for him. I wanted to tell him that all I really wanted was to hold him, and never let go. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. Yet, I also wanted to tell him how much I hated him. I wanted to kill him for being so blind to my hidden feelings. I wanted to kill him for being so deaf to my internal screams. I wanted to kill him, for his mere existence caused me so much pain. Yet, his existence was what seemed to keep me alive. It consumed my thoughts, my dreams, the pages of my journal. He was the air I breathed. On that bright, sunny day when his whisper reached my ears, I spoke to him, for the first and the last time. I spoke his name, then I turned around, and looked him in the eye. I could feel my ears burning, and my knees weakening under his gaze. I spoke to him, and I said the only thing I could think to say: Merry Christmas. Then I smiled, and ran away.