You have to remember, the first time I saw him, I wasn’t really looking. The second time he was a back up plan. But the moment I actually looked at him, I saw how beautiful he was.
Not in a very conventional sense, but then again you don’t always find boys who look like Chris Evans or Ian Somerhalder. But for me, he was close enough. But I didn’t really know him. I knew OF him from glances, and whispers, and sneaked peaks and gossip that floated around the air of the college.
And maybe that was the first mistake – trying to get to know him.
Because I’m not a pretty girl, in any sense. I’m insecure, and shy, and weird and awkward, and if you think about it everyone is. So why should I be scared of anyone’s judgmental eyes? But I was, and I still am. I didn’t know how act cool around him. My heart would beat a thousand to a moment when I saw him. And most of all I thought I didn’t deserve him.
But the biggest element in the story that I forgot about was him.
Nothing about me mattered to him – I was like a tiny speck in his universe that most of the time lost attention in a span of less than a minute. There were no second glances, no reminisces, no memories in his mind that had my name as their title.
Oh, except the ones that were deemed as ‘That weird Girl.’
Now, a year later I still see him.
His roaring stumble and his definitive eyebrows. I even love the scar-like lines that doom over them. His stature, his hair, the way he walks like a freaking mare. I hate him for making my breath falter, and for making me search for his face through the crowd. And you know what? For all the romanticizing I do, he’s not even the greatest person I know.
He’s a douche who won’t even make the effort to talk to me, because I don’t happen to be the popular person. And he’s an idiot for thinking he’s oh-so-cool even if that occurs subconsciously in his mind.
Let’s just say the person I think he is, isn’t the person he really is.
And boy, in my imagination he’s a lot nicer, and sweeter and more human.
And I wish I could say I hated him, but everyone including him knows that I haven’t found a way to get over him yet. Every time I look at another boy, its his face that flashes across the screens. And it’s not his fault or his responsibility. After all this time, I don’t even hold that brilliant smile against him. Because it’s not him, it’s me.
I’m trying to let go. And its not easy. Specially when I have to endure his presence everyday. And my hugest regret isn’t not making him fall in love with me. It is not even being able to be his friend. To see him laugh, to know his vulnerabilities, his favorite songs, what his freaking shoe size is.
And the worse part is he’ll never know what my favorite color is, which quote makes me tick, what food I love to eat because I just love eating, and whether or not I can smile.
He is everything I’ve wanted, everything I’ve seen him to be. But he’ll never be him.