If I thought his confidence was a misrepresentation of his personality, I'd just have to look down to see the falsehood in mine. My chest was nothing but clotted fabric; an illusion of Marilyn Monroe intimates and my face screamed insecurity covered with ounces of makeup. He told me he was shy but everywhere in his appearance, he oozed of a put together man who was afraid of no conversation and no relationship.

My first day of college, January 12, 2009, I had one class: Creative Writing, nonetheless I was panicked tremendously. I entered the classroom to see that there were several people pulling the tables to make a large oval. I noticed this blond boy helping, then he sat down and I seated myself beside him, he looked normal enough. He wasn't handsome or anything, my first notion was that he was ugly. However, I have no priority in scrutinizing appearance seeing in contrast I possess a plain stature. I shall regret sitting adjacent to him for the rest of my life. He would be the first boy to reject me.

During the class, the professor gave everyone a few minutes to fill out these contact sheets so we could make new friends. I was actually excited about it; I'd always had trouble opening the door to friendship. Well, he filled out mine. I had his address, his cell phone number, his name and his email. On my second day, I entered my Logic class, as I got further into the room, I saw this bright blond head of hair behind a computer station, "It's that dude from yesterday." I thought. He pushed his hair back with one hand; this would be something he'd do habitually. I didn't even see his face but I knew it was him. It was nice to see an identifiable face (or hair actually).

On the third day, we switched classrooms for Creative Writing and I hugged my friend goodbye (not knowing I wouldn't see him again). I came to class searching for the familiarity of the 1st day. He was on the other side of the room and so was the girl from my other side. I ended up in a new territory. My schedule had been blended with strangeness and I ended up with a new class; English Literature, the next week. I entered class to see this same memorable blond dude. The next day when we were asked to move to a new table because it was way in the back, I moved up to be near him simply because we were acquainted already. Later, our Logic class shifted buildings; I waited for him to sit down so I could (again) be near him. He moved in English Lit and to avoid being labeled 'stalker', I didn't follow him.

I just got used to seeing him; we had really small conversations in Logic sometimes. The impending fate that titled itself Valentines Day approached. Perhaps with all the red and pink colors flashing, and the media bombarding the message you must have someone for this specific date wrenched at my inexperienced heart. I trickled desperation. The whole week I had a pang of wanting to ask him out. On Wednesday, Creative Writing was cancelled; I obtained intuition that I would be too cowardly to ask him and initiated my creativity into construction paper and rhyming. I cut up shapes of hearts and flowers, and then struggled to write a poem. My words are of no great sacrament in the historical or present tense. The first draft sucked, I had to retrieve my dusty thesaurus to elaborate on my feelings without sounding like the moron I felt I was. I had no glue, so my efforts remained in pieces.

The next day I had him for Logic and English Lit, by the end of Logic I couldn't ask. I verbally assaulted myself after class because I couldn't get any nerves, but I told myself I still had English Lit to ask him. I didn't. I saw him leave and I was so sad. I had his phone number, but I never called. On February 13, I put the card together, put my poem, very much revised and very much saying "I like you, you make me happy, I think you're smart and I'm not good at this." I will never share that poem with anyone else except him. I know I sent it too late. I printed out his name and then for the return address I put a nickname. I couldn't even put my real name. If I had, I don't think the following narrative would unfold.

On Monday, I worried, but then on Tuesday as I briskly walked down the hall, I noticed him smiling at me. I saw him but didn't smile back. It was then I should have processed the knowledge (he knows it's me). Honestly I never thought anything would develop from it and I was hoping he'd never know it was me. Oh, how I wish that is the story I could tell. He never said anything and I forgot about it. There was no longer the morose pressure of Valentines Day.

February 24, we had a quiz for Logic, he was very knowledgeable, he knew what he was doing, and I barely studied and had trouble with it. He was done quickly and lots of people were struggling to complete it so the professor let out the students who were finished. As he closed his Logic notebook, I saw it; my envelope with his address and my nickname printed in the corner. I veered swiftly and he observed my motion. In the moment there was trepidation. He put that in there merely to assure himself of his admirer's identity. Though he'd no clue how it would unravel me.

I had a panic attack; I couldn't breathe or get my heart to slow its beat. I couldn't concentrate on Logic. Even when he was gone, I had trouble getting the idea of him carrying around my card, out of my brain. I finished the test, I did okay for having panic attack. During my free period, a tornado scattered my deliberations. "Why does he have it? What does he want? Does he know it was me?" Similar questions flew all around and without him to answer I was forsaken with them. I managed to be calm enough in English Lit; I had to return his pencil. That night I couldn't sleep, I awoke wondering and questioning myself over and over.

I gave myself the wrong answers and I wanted to believe he liked me too. The little crush returned, stronger and worse, like some sort of illness. This confident (somewhat arrogant) being intrigued me. I just thought I could have something I didn't have before. I don't even know why. I don't know if there's anyone who's been able to answer that question of why. It just happens, it happened and…. it fucked up everything!

The following week after seeing the card and feeling it all over again, I kept thinking I could write him more poems. I went to my neurologist, he put me on some medication, and I had to fail to attend Creative Writing to reach that appointment. I told him a little bit about my classes, and when I mentioned having missed a course that day, I said; "I have a friend who's in 3 of my classes, I'll just get the work from him." That was how I considered us though I was wildly insane; imagining we could be a couple (although I didn't want anyone to know).

Tuesday, him I would not see, nor Wednesday, I asked my friend from Creative Writing if she had seen him on Monday, but she didn't even know who he was when I mentioned his name. The next morning I sent out an email to my friend, to this other lady and then I spent a brief 3 minutes or so writing him an email. I didn't ask him where he was. I had conceived explanations saying 'I miss you' without meaning 'I'm fixated. You've been in my thoughts so much lately. I need to see you!' I got it out right. I told him the story about seeing him in Logic on the 2nd day.

I would enter Logic and see him, "You're here." I managed to utter calmly, though inside I was jumping up and down, ecstatic at his return. "I actually sent you an email." "Yeah, I got that." He said and I felt somewhat stupid because I had been checking it during my English 101 class. No response. I gave him this dark blue lanyard bracelet. I don't know, he had bare wrists, thought it would look good on him. I had made it Tuesday, planned to give it to him on Wednesday, but he wasn't there. I had to pour hot water on the plastic to reset it straight. I remade it a few times attempting perfection. I gave it to him. He put it on, took it off, he never wore it again.

After class I couldn't help asking if he would be in Creative Writing on Monday, he said he wouldn't. The first few days of the week, I didn't really miss him, probably because I beforehand attained the knowledge he wouldn't be there. I told myself I had to study for Logic and I was working on the study guide, I made a copy for him. The next day I chanced upon him. I couldn't breathe. I slipped away from him. I waited around the corner until class began and in class I sat uncomfortably, unable to remain in the same room with him. He approached me asking for the study guide. I gave it to him, and then tried to relax. I left the room repetitively. There didn't seem to be oxygen anywhere in the building. I composed myself as much as I could but not a great extent.

The next morning, I had to meet with my English 101 professor because I had trouble with my essay. Then she told me to do some research for it. I had about 20 minutes. I went to the computer lab and then researched some stuff, for my last free moments, though I'd written nothing to anyone in a week, I checked my email. Amid the spam was his name, I opened it, he thanked me for the study guide and then mentioned what I had said about his hair, "So that blonde dude, huh, is that all I am to you?" I read way too much into it, interpreting it for something else. I laughed all the way to my class and for the first 10 minutes or so. I was eager about seeing him in Logic but he was busy, so I didn't get to speak to him.

So it was barely a week after I sent him an email, a day after he sent me one and a month since I had a crush, lost it, and got it back. Since I couldn't talk to him in class, I spent time writing him a letter. I said he was making me crazy. He had asked a question at the end of his email, I answered that, telling him a little about myself, and also saying I wish I'd never met him. I basically asked him out. He was not there in English Lit. We were supposed to work on these midterms, but it was difficult and as I had email access; I sent him one. I said I had had something to give him. I typed out some of the things that I'd written, excluding a lot, but leaving the message: I wish I never met you. He already knew why but made no reference. He responded quickly and he said; "Tell me about yourself." I've never encountered this statement before; I didn't know how to answer it. From then on I would say all the wrong damn things.

The next Monday I wrote him a long email and another brief one the next day. I would be sitting next to him in Logic, upset at an earlier event, and when I asked him where we were when I got lost within the class' progress, he mumbled, "I don't know." I thought he was mad. Then after no email response, I thought I had been saying something wrong. I took Wednesday off, I was hoping he'd notice my absence as I'd discerned his but he didn't. I didn't talk to him in Logic, after class during my free period, my head inhabited consternation. I wondered what I had said to place upon him some disconcert. I attempted not to be querulous, not to worry him or say the weird things in my usual commencement, but I did somehow and I assumed I'd rendered him to a state of discomfiture. I wrote him a rambling email and saved it to drafts. I had emailed someone else, and then got a response telling me to call. I sent the draft and then made my phone call. I was in a bad place, people were worried about me. I was frustrated and I didn't know why. Words slapped comical muse into my stress levels.

I arrived in class and knew that I should not have sent that email. I again left class continuously, just unable to breathe or sit still. I went to a bathroom stall and tried to cry out the frustration, but not enough tears streamed. After class I sent another email saying "Ignore that last one." I had nobody; I had no friends and no one to talk to. Monday, I checked my email after class; I had missed his when I'd gone through it earlier. I opened it….

I yearned for him to like me and then after I just wanted him to be my friend. He always was, but after it all came out, words split atoms that cascaded through thin wires over an unmet attachment. I found he couldn't be what I desired. It had only been prior to that I wrote, "My everything was burning." I thought I was burning. I thought I was on fire. I experience constant adrenaline rushes. I feel interminable sanguine coursing at the rapid rate under my epidermis. It singes my being.

He told me he wasn't mad, he was shy. I couldn't even believe it. That didn't seem like him. He just was so confident and always made comments in class, nowhere did I perceive that. He used the 'R' word, relationship, and I was awestruck, I didn't think any of us would ever mention it aloud. Then he was talking about this girl who broke his heart and how he did not want to hurt anyone. He didn't want anyone tying him down. Later, I would wonder why he would think I would tie him down. I laughed so long after reading that. It was another day of not so much sleeping, afraid and upset. I had so many thoughts. I barely had time to dream. I had an answer from him then and all I sensed had meant nothing. I thought we were getting close but thinking was an overdose. I narrowly survived the week. I had written out so many letters (very unsent) trying to retort or play it off. 'Your friend,' he had concluded in his email. The "F" word snapped my withered clavicle bones and the arteries underneath. That hurt so much because I just wanted a chance. I took leave of my lingering function in life believing this boy could be in my possession.

I've never touched anyone; I leave no bedazzled loving influence upon them. I was overlooked, left swearing and begging redemption from my misery. I was unable to regulate my judgment but I carried on and my studies did not suffer. I didn't want to lose use of my sensory organs because of him but I just ached for a connection that had never been implemented for me. Awhile it seemed a duet was in proximity; achievement was imminent, we could be a couple I assumed. I didn't talk to him, he moved across the room in Logic, given our circumstances, I believed I was the reason for it. Although in 12 days he would explain (via email) that his shyness was coming out and he felt crowded. I had emailed him the day before spring break. I had to say a little bit. I omitted things, so I lied basically when I said I was only his friend. I barely knew him and he hardly knew me, we were both liars.

I think about others and try to cast out the shadows that belabor my own existence. After he told me 'no' I experienced every feeling I could over it. I told myself to let go, I was so angry, so depressed, but I came to accept that I was his friend and nothing more.

Spring break resulted in realizations for me. I had several doctors' appointments. I got a refill on my medication and as I was reading over the warnings, I saw I had several of the side effects: Mood swings, irritability, mental changes, nervousness, increased anxiety, panic attacks, and cravings for sweets. I'd eaten nothing but chocolate for the last month and I detest candy. Not only were the pills failing to alter the condition they were supposed to, but they were causing a lot of other problems so it wasn't entirely my fault. I was on a minimum dosage of 20 milligrams but was experiencing the full effects of 100 milligrams, that is sensitivity.

Supposing to start school anew I returned to college with a different appearance; I had my hair different, wore a skirt and boots. I found I was still afraid to be near or look at him. The next day, I found I had an email from him. He is gifted; he is able to be concise and meaningful in his words while I'll choose so many with no implication. He addressed some stuff I said. This is where he told me that I wasn't the reason he moved in Logic. He also said he didn't see my emails as psycho, but they were a little weird. Then he pointed out that no one is normal. He then told me to sit by him in English Lit and Creative Writing. He asked me how my spring break was, the first time he asked a question I could answer. Then he added a P.S. saying he liked my hair. I would answer and he would respond, though I would ask more questions that he wouldn't reply to. The day after that, I know being deficient of sleep, I emailed bizarre stuff.

The next Monday he was absent (again). I emailed him, assuming he was ditching. He believed his intelligence so refined that he need not rely on attendance. I asked him some stuff and he answered most of what I asked. The one question I wished he would answer was "What was your first impression of me?" He probably didn't answer because I left none. I'd see in him Creative Writing the next day and wanted to sit near him but there was no space. I hated him for ignoring me. I feel ignored in the silence. I know I exist, there is proof everywhere but quiet still follows me. There was one moment in English Literature I actually perceived the color of his eyes; green. I had never looked in his eyes before. It was that moment he seemed to be "real". Before that I'd idolized him to a point there was no humanity beyond the faultless I'd generated of him. I incessantly checked my old emails to see his name and ensure he existed in school and not just in my mind. I will never know why I felt I could establish a connection or hook someone to me but even after I was rejected, I let go, reconnected our trivial bond, and then attempted to create a new one. I will never know why I wanted him, but he's my friend, I've found that very limpid.

I said it first and I'd never initiated anything in my life. I could not believe it. Everyone wants what they can't have; now I can't even obtain a simplistic exchange of verbal understanding. I even got up my nerve in a very succinct email to ask if he wanted to hang out outside of school but he didn't answer. I could barely get him to answer when I say 'Hi'.

Although we were just friends and my lungs didn't quit, I still felt nervous seeing him. I would see him talking to this other girl in Logic, and then find myself angry because he would not talk to me. A similar situation developed in English Lit and Creative Writing. Jealous etches its way into my consciousness. He had said it a few times how he could get along fine being with a person in silence, (and I didn't read into that). I avoided sending any emails summarizing these feelings because the fanatical obsession would show itself again. I no longer thought of him in a romantic way, I observed us in friendship, but at every opportunity I kept feeling that he wasn't my friend. Questions constantly inserted my head, I wanted to know why he didn't want me, but he had already said. I felt inadequate; I was ugly, I was stupid, I talked too much… all the flaws in me answered the question of why he would not be with me. (I wonder if he would have even agreed to go out with me in February).

I left English Lit early, I had found I had to stop briefly so I was delayed somewhat, when I walked across campus, I stared off in all directions searching for any people I knew. I saw him, he glanced at me and it was a steel effort to not gaze that way again. He was walking almost the same track I was. They way we glimpsed each other, we were strangers, after everything. This was what I had closest to friendship in the world? I wanted to run over and talk to him but didn't. I don't think it mattered he was male, because if I had any female friends, I might have done the same thing. I dredge ineptitude and instruct myself incapable.

Rage inebriated me. I wanted him to be a little loquacious. A collapse fled with my sanity as zealous weeping had endured previously. I challenge my genetics and my own deistic theory of ambition. I lack the ambiguity to go forward. I am nothing of what I say. I have my moments of negativity. I have moments of accentuating positivity. In the quiet moments I clutch the insight that I am not a 3rd dimensional figure of actuality. I am paper, I might be a receipt wrapper; a history of things purchased that may be lost, returned or forgotten and used up. Receipts become left in a whispering wind of reason along the River Mediocrity, which is life. Wandering. Absconding from each other we were. That is my life.

It is my life. It is difficult to approach anyone, no matter how easy it may seem. It may be a simple proposition in life but not mine. It appears I am living solitaire, I'm done being played with and I have finished playing. I never went out with intent of malevolence.

I wanted to live in exultance; the enthusiasm of childhood still imprinted on my nerve endings. The smiles and conversations that everyone receives cannot be granted to me and I have no reason to return them. I leave spaces empty for others, but no one comes near. The synthetic appearance I front is admired, but not the standard face and regular nature which I am burdened with. Happiness is not something you can wish for or plan. It is not a swirl in which you lose your way and cannot discover the exit. It is also not a place where you are given clear directions which to follow. I have a belief, the terse knowledge I should be taking care of myself, but I have not and it doesn't seem like I'll start.

When I drowse, there are secrets that can't be hidden, he's still there sometimes. In the morning of forgotten duties, I attempt to recall the moments he wasn't afraid to speak to me. He doesn't bring light to me anymore. I'd like to stay low, keep my head down, and then stay down until I become the trampled earth. I don't feel, but I also feel in overabundance. My words mean less and won't give faith. Everything I said has previously been stated and all I believed, I don't trust it myself. When it comes after the days, there isn't anything I can get with the resources at time. I can't look for something that's not there. He might as well not exist. Ignorance, I am aware is my image and I am a lie. I fall beneath the liberty everyone else experiences. In a day to sense and believe lives were led, where was mine? In a body craving lucidity I solely desired to be a valid description of my appearance.

Our Logic professor had a seminar on a weekend to go over Logic, I went and I saw him. He smiled at me and I smiled back, that was the most we noticed each other all afternoon.

During finals week, in English Lit, he had asked me how'd I'd done on the Logic test. I missed nothing! He missed two! (I didn't need him to copy off of). That was the extent of our conversing. So in English Lit, we had a group that had to present, and as the professor always gets sidetracked and goes into conversations about topics, she went into one, "Are we as human beings devised of several parts?" My blond boy explained he was part of his mother; outgoing and outspoken, and then his father; quiet and reserved. The class laughed, the professor said, "We have not seen that part of you." Inside I laughed; I'd seen that part of him.

Was he my friend? I didn't believe it sometimes. To see us together, you'd never know we were friends, never know what I wanted from him, or what he didn't want from me. Supposedly, we were friends, that's all I could get because that's all he wanted. I was okay with that, but he had to show he was my friend as well.

Summer vacation arrived and a few weeks passed. Then I went to summer school, made friends and for a time, kept the latch open on the window for him to come. I always examined my emails seeking a reply from him, but it never came. I sent him one last email and I called him one last time. Actually, I didn't call him. July 5th 2009, I had wanted my friend to call him and ask him why he didn't talk to me anymore. My friend was too nervous so her 9 year old cousin did it. She emerged from where she had placed the call and informed us that he had hung up on her when she asked the question! He obviously had issues and wasn't brave enough to announce the reason for his subtle partition. We all began to slander him as a jerk and I finally believed it, I turned to the girl and said "Thank you." He wasn't my friend. Now what I always knew began to compose itself into the ending instead of leaving it open for more story. He wanted nothing to do with me at all.

As I literally cleaned out my room, I found letters I'd wanted to send him, stuff I wanted to ask, and I crammed them into an envelope with his name scribbled out. No more of him, he ripped my paper heart off my sleeve, and cut me with it. The wound became infected and putrescent, for awhile it seemed the scar would be dark, but just as skin does, it will heal and diminish into mere memory. I will not nourish the memory, and one day it will be forgotten.