Six years, I've  loved her--my friends said I was insane for having a crush that long, I must have been the fool for telling them but I needed to get it off my chest.  Her name was Emily like the poet Emily Dickenson, stupid huh, I get all sappy and warm inside just thinking about her.  Although I've never made my feelings known I think sometimes she suspects it, but I don't care I can't help but want to be around her.  I 'm not exactly apart of her regular clique but we speak from time to time, but more so when we're in class.  I love making her laugh and seeing the dimple indentions when she does.  In my eyes she perfection. 

As much as I love her there are two things that keep me from stopping this unrequited love and just asking her out.  One, she's straight with a boyfriend and two, I'm chicken shit, so the voice inside my head likes to remind me every time I'm around her. 

Today I asked her to be my subject for an art project I'm doing, in my mind I made up the different scenarios of how she would accept me and be with me instead of her football boyfriend.  However, that wasn't to be the case, stepping across the threshold of her home I lost myself in drawing her.  Mostly I did sketches nothing that truly made her out to be the beauty that she really is.  Just her body. 

As I sat watching her staring at every imperfection and perfection I realized that I loved this girl for so long and didn't want her anymore.  Perhaps it doesn't make sense but I enjoyed drawing her, that I admit is something I'll cherish forever.  Yet, I realized that after I'd finished doing what I had to do, drawing her body the creases in her clothes and her unruly hair I stopped wanting her.

Nothing has changed about her from the moment that I had walked through the door my stomach felt funny my heart was pounding, but by the end of the session I felt free.  She wouldn't be the first thought in my mind when I woke up or the last when I went to bed. 

I have drawings of her on my wall that I look at from time to time, but mostly they lay ignored by me.  To think that I had become this hapless sap for love?  What was I thinking? 

Sometimes when I'm not thinking about something or doing something important I think back on that day and how I loved her more than I could have possibly imagined and then stopped the next.  It was crazy and confusing but it made sense in the long run.  Probably not to anyone else but I felt freed somehow. 

I haven't stopped caring about her, and I make it a point to speak to her in the hallways when we pass each other.  She doesn't seem happy sometimes and then the morbid part of me is happy that she is somehow saddened by what had transpired that weekend.  I think she knows that I pulled away, I think that she knows, but her lifestyle is her comfort zone her sanctuary.  And then again this could be me babbling off about what I want her to feel but didn't. 

I hope she's happy. I hope she's loved.  That's all that I can expect and cherish from a life that is confusing, unfair, and simple all in the same time.

 

The End