I hate it.
Everything about it.
It's not fair. Then again, life isn't fair.
Why should he love her, when I sit here, waiting to be noticed?
I thought he noticed me.
He said I was pretty and artistic. He said he wanted to see me. I thought that meant something. That I meant something.
I am writing this, because maybe if I put it all down on paper, I'll feel less like an idiot.
It's not helping. I still feel like an idiot.
His memory lingers, in the back of my mind, waiting for my thoughts to quiet so it can rise up and torment me once more.
I already live through it whenever I see him - in English class, in History, in Astronomy, and at Lunch. And after school, when he stays.
Of course, he stays with her.
I try to put him from my mind the rest of the time so that I can have a little peace, a brief respite from the insecurities that he inspires.
That doesn't happen often.
I sit behind him in English and watch as he laughs, his broad mouth curving upwards at the corners. And sometimes he smiles at me, because even if I'm not pretty enough for him, I'm still artistic. That's something he can't take away from me. He smiles when I wear my eighties throwback clothes - the off shoulder shirts and converse, the leg warmers and the heels. He smiles at me when I wear the blue jeans with the paint on them, the skirt with the buttons, or the old lady sweater, or when I bring the purse with the ridiculous flower pin that I found at a garage sale. He smiles at me when I bring my art projects to class with me. I make a point of doing so, just so he'll look at them. It makes me feel special.
I sit next to him in History, and we laugh about the silly names of the Kings of Britain and talk about how we would have done things differently. I point out that we don't know all that happened - history tends to overlook emotions and seemingly non-important relationships. Maybe he was in love with his enemy's sister, and that's why he couldn't do the obvious things, the things he points out. We sit there with our heads together and trade comments - witty, sarcastic and cynical. Sometimes serious.
I sit in front of him in Astronomy and he sits next to her. It's not fair, because in any other class, I would be sitting next to her, but since he's there, she leaves me with his best friend. I listen as she tells him trademark jokes she stole from Comedy Central, and tells him funny stories that I told her first, or in which I am a character. I try to be nice, but sometimes, I can't help it and I point these things out to her. She always glares at me, but then he laughs it off and she does too. She'll be angry with me later, but I can deal with that.
It's hard being in love with the same person as your best friend, especially when he chooses her.
This is entirely fictional, and not based on any experiences of mine. Honestly, I don't really know where it came from. Hmmm...