I see him in his nice looking clothes. So spiffy and new. His mother keeps his clothes pressed, ironed on his pants are the little crease lines directly in the middle. His shirts are always clean. His letterman impeccably perfect. I hate him for his perfection.

I watch him at band practice, wishing I could tell him. He plays the horn so gracefully, I can barely screech a tune on my flute. He goes to the band hall in the morning, to listen to the pianos sing. If only I could play, he could finally hear what's in my heart.

I listen to him at lunch. His voice just over a whisper. So quiet, my dream. He always makes me laugh even if he doesn't mean to. His voice is almost like velvet, but that would make him unreal. He's perfect with his flaws.

His hair is cupping his ears, the chocolate color begging to be brushed by another. Is that why she loves him? I tell him secrets so that I can feel his hair, breathe his scent. Creepy I know. But what should a girl do in love?

Should I tell him? Can I? Of course I can, I'm not a wimp. But she already has. He knows her feelings, so he can never know mine. Dear 'sister', why do you love him too? Why do you have to love the one that I do, that I have for so long? He's the first in many years. Too many for a normal girl. So I sit here at the table, watching him avoid her and watching her adore him. If I could truly hate, I'd hate you for this.

My heart is left in pieces, taped up because the thread ripped. The blood of my love is gushing. I only want to stop needing him. She says she's over him, but is she really? Why would she get someone to ask him to take her to his prom? My dear senior, you don't need this. Pathetic sophomores fawning over you.

I've tried to give up. To cut off my feelings for him. The pain is unbearable as he hands over that impeccably perfect jacket to her, he's to sweet to say no. So kind, he is. Tears of desolation and pain are immense. I can only expect that since I can't tell him that I love him.

I'm second best to her, the one he doesn't love. How could he love me, if not her? I've always gotten the silver instead of gold. No matter if I tell him, I won't be first. Like every other thing in my life,

I'm Just Not Enough.


You know, it's strange to just sit there. You never move a muscle, just sitting and staring at the proverbial wall. What so interesting about it? Why is it more interesting than me? I say hi and you just glance at me and mumble before going back to staring.

Smile, it's a mildly happy day. You always smile and give a little laugh when I say that. But you never look, never see. Do you know that I sit behind you and try to copy your movements, just to see if you notice? Sometimes you do and you turn slightly pink. That's so cute. Other times I end up moving because you sit so still. You're such a dork.

How has your life been? Senior testing is starting soon so I guess that's why your reviews are all over the place. Not very organized, I must say. Do you need any help studying? Of course not, you're smart, practically a genius from what I've heard.

Silly me, I've been talking but you've already walked away. Okay, I've been babbling really, at least I didn't tell you my secret yet. That's good…well, it's actually bad, since you're the secret.

I've been kind of…apathetic lately, all I can write about is you. That makes me sad since I love to show off my work to friends…but my friends are your friends and I'm not subtle enough to keep it a secret. Maybe I'll tell them once you're gone. Did you know that my mom works at the college you're going to? Her class doesn't start until six though and I highly doubt that you'll be at the library, it's my favorite place on the campus, at night. I kind of hope that you will be there, if only once. So that we could talk…I consider you a friend and I like keeping in touch…

Life's going to be different when you're gone, just for me though. No one else will notice that you're not at the lunch table on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I will though. No one else will notice the missing sounds from the French Horn section, I will though.

Oh, who am I kidding? I know that you won't care that I care, and you won't show up to the library, I also know that you forget my name and that you don't even know that I'm behind you right now. I'm reading Hamlet over your shoulder, it's okay though. I know that I'm

The One You Never See.


I think that you know I'm fake. You once saw me cry, you weren't supposed to. I was crying because my writing was called horrible, it's the only thing I live for. You didn't say anything, just watched. That was the third most embarrassing thing of my life. I never let anyone see me cry, it gives them reason to believe I'm weak…too bad that belief is right.

I know that you think I'm crazy. From teasing you to having strange conversations around you, I mean, who really cares about Lex Luthor's sex life? I've done some pretty wild things around you too. Like taking off my shoes to run up the stairs and almost slipping when I reach the last step. Now you know that I'm not graceful.

You do some pretty strange things too, like stopping suddenly so that I run into you, knowing that with the packed hallways I'd have to stay there for a moment longer than needed, like stopping me on the last step of the stairs by asking my friend a question about me, almost making me slip. There was also that time at band camp, yes I did just say that, when you almost started a water fight with me by pouring some water over my head. I would've gotten you back if we hadn't been called back to the field. At Schlitterbahn you did the strangest thing of all, you hung out with me, even though we aren't that great of friends. You walked with me through the park and told all about the rides you rode your first time there. You even laughed when I said I was afraid to ride them.

I remember that when I lost you and you suddenly popped up behind me and said something in my ear that caused me to jump, but you got the towel away. Remember back during marching season? You said I made you nervous…and way back in the summer you laughed and that's when I really started crushing on you. It wasn't the little quiet laughs, it was full of joy and echoed through the walkway.

It's these things that make me believe that you could like me but then I realize that I could probably never risk the chance of telling you. I'm pretending to be tough and mean and a little hardcore but let's face the truth, I'm not



Did you know my friends are worried about me? They think that since you're leaving that I won't be the same. Guess what, they're right. I won't be hanging around the band hall longer than usual, because you're gone. I won't wake up early on Tuesdays and Wednesdays so I can make myself pretty for when I see you at lunch, because you're gone. I won't be writing songs about a little nobody getting the guy of her dreams, the songs that everyone love, because you're gone. I won't be as crazy or wild, I was only trying to make you laugh, but you'll be gone so what does it matter?

Did you know that my friends are scared for me? They think that since you're leaving I'll start cutting again. That was never about you, though. I let the blood slide and the pain rage because of my life and how utterly pathetic I am. I mean, instead of saying all this to your face I'm writing it down so that every time I read it I can feel sorry that I never told you. You wouldn't understand how I feel, you're so happy…not perfect, as I once thought, but happy. Meh, this is all my fault, I should have never started that, and now I can't seem to stop.

Did you know that my family is worried for me? The friendship I have with my dear 'sister' is crumbling. I think that's because of my almost unbearable attraction to you. I won't ever blame you, though. It's not really you're fault…I've always been a little jealous of her, and that bred the hate. What I do blame you for is the times I've cried when you forgot my name and the one time when you called me hers. They don't believe me when I say that I'll get over you once you're gone. Why do you suppose that is? It's not like you're Adonis…

Did you know that my family is scared for me? They see me with almost violent mood swings. From happy to sad, apathetic to anger…I can't control it. They're scared of the songs I've written…go ahead and check my myspace, the songs are disturbing and sad. I don't feel like that, usually, it's just a song, it sounds good, that's all. I think that they blame you a little…you and my friends. I didn't write suicide notes with a tune until I fell for you and started hanging with the semi emo/goth freaks. I didn't cry at night until I found that she liked you, it can't be love since she likes someone else too.

Did you know that I don't worry about me? I'm fine, just overly emotional. I'm just a wimp…unless you show up to my sweet sixteen. Then I'll tell you everything, I won't even cry when you run away. These thoughts are all tangled in my head. I can't decide how I feel. I know that I've felt something for others this year, but it was never as strong as my like for you. I've only recently decided that I am truly in love with you, I made that choice when I saw you on that last Thursday. You were standing in the middle of the band hall, listening to something your friend was saying. You turned to look at me as I opened the door and I felt my heart slow down and my vision become blurry. I knew that I loved you when that little half smile slid over your face and you barely nodded at me. Who cares if you sometimes call me by her name? I felt my breath stop and I knew that I was in love.

Did you know that I'm scared for me? So many doubts run through my head, what if you don't like me, what if I'm not good enough, what if I stay in love with you forever? I don't want to be alone anymore, I don't want to pine for anyone else. I want to meet someone my age, maybe a little older…and I want to fall for them. I don't want to think of you anymore. Not your soft voice, not your awesome smile, not even your hair and clothes. Stay away from me! …but don't ever leave. I want to get phone calls from you at two in the morning, I want to go to the park or just sit in McDonald's with you. I want to help you with your college studying. I want to be with you.

Did you know that I love you?


May twenty-seventh will echo in my head for a while…maybe forever. I remember the ache in my arm as we played Pomp and Circumstance for the fifth time, I was falling asleep and it felt like the streams of blue were never going to end. I remember the random dots of black, separating the ridiculous amount of blue. It was everywhere. I remember my eyes filling as a certain blue splot passed by…then I couldn't see anymore. We played that song seven more times before the blue was finished pouring. No one understood why I was crying, it's not like I have blue friends, just one who I've talked to a few times. There were also the blue people I had classes with.

One of the black dressed people stood and talked…it sounded so foreign. He traded places with a female clad in black and she announced the blue girl about to talk. Blue Girl sounded like a Barbie. Another one stood to talk and the band cheered, she was one of us…only smothered in blue. The talking continued forever, I remember something about brownies though and I've wanted one ever since.

Now two of the black dressed people began the ceremony. The blue people sitting rose, row by row, and walked to the platform. They handed off a little white card and were labeled by a name as they walked across and received a black book-like thing. I didn't pay attention until a certain blue guy walked across the stage. He took his book and walked down the stage and back to his seat. He had to pass the band and he looked at us before moving to his chair, I think he looked at me…I couldn't see again.

Ugh…another song to play, but some of the blue dresses are getting up, and they're playing the music with us. The theme song and a song we played earlier this year. It sounds like crap, the worst we've ever done. But maybe that's because the ringing in my ears is blocking out everything else. Finally we get to play the last song. The Blues are standing and walking out. Row by row, separated by black gowns. Then the head black gowned people leave and finally the band director tells us to pack up.

I'm leaving early so I rush out, my best friends behind me, and I wait for our Blues to come. Those gowns are unzipped and now I recognize them. Shane, Patrice, Lauren, and Jennifer. But a few are still missing, and I know that the pregnant one, Molly, is with her husband. But where is...? I run into the parking lot, and Curtis, my best friend, is chasing me. He says he'll help me look. An almost desperation is filling me.

I run, as fast as heels can take me, to the other side of the building to where most of the Blues were let out from their ritual. The crowds are suffocating, flashes going off, and yelling is everywhere. I search the entire area, to no avail. I trudge back to the front, my mother, 'sister', and her friend (the mother of my 'sister') are waiting for us. We all pile into the van and I reflect back to today. He passed in a gown of royal blue and I felt my heart swell, he received a black book and I felt my lungs stop, he went to his seat and I felt the finality, he disappeared and I felt like crying.

A white van is pulling out of the parking lot and inside it holds my entire heart. My mother asks why I am allowing tears to fall, she knows that I view them as weakness, and I just ignore her. Curtis pats my shoulder, the most he can do since he's never seen me cry, and I watch the van drive away.

Today you graduated, and you didn't wait for me to tell you congrats or to confess.

Today you're free from high school, and you'll forget that Stacy ever existed.

Today you become part of the real world, and you left me to this fake reality

Today I lost my one and only

Last Chance


Dear Micah Gourley,

I don't know the real you. I don't know if you prefer Pepsi or Dr. Pepper, I don't know if you're a vegetarian, I don't know your favorite color, and I don't know what you talk about to your family. I have no idea if you go on the internet and I don't know your favorite book. So I guess I know nothing about you then.

You don't know anything about me. You don't know that I hate math, you don't know what my middle name is, you don't know what I do for fun, and you don't know what kind of ice cream I like. You have no idea that I've tried to stop liking you, heck, you don't even know that I like you.

I do know that you play the horn nicely, and that you don't curse, I know that you read Shakespeare when you're supposed to be doing economy homework, I know that you think eleven o'clock is too early to eat lunch. I know you have two middle names and I know that I make you nervous. I know that my friends kind of scare you and I know that you've stolen my Paganism book to read when you're a devout Christian and your father's a minister.

I find that highly ironic, you know. I fell for a minister's son. Me, a Pagan with a…somewhat confusing religious history. From Catholic to Buddhism, to Atheism, to Methodist, to Baptist, to Agnosticism, to Wiccan, then to Paganism. It's confusing, isn't it? And in all that time I never thought I'd ever pine for a minister's kid. I'm not insulting you, I respect your father's job, I just find it funny.

You do in fact know somewhat about me too, you know that I hate my father, and I sometimes hate that my mom's a teacher. You know that I don't like Tina and I'm only friends with her because our mothers are friends. You know that I have opinions and that I'm not afraid to say them. You also know that I'm a little crazy, well, at least some of the time I am. You know that I get annoyed when Curtis acts perverted and you know that Karina is probably the nicest person I've ever met. You know that I've taken ballet and karate to make my mom look good with her friends and you know that I hate being considered a prodigy by other teachers.

I guess that you know all this because I talk too much about random things, like now. Basically this is just for me to tell you everything I could never say. Hey, I just thought of something else.

This entire year Tina has been dogging you, I apologize for her…wayward behavior. She sees what she wants and she just goes for it, she's much bolder that I could ever be. She will show you how much she wants you, while I'd rather become friends and let it all come naturally, after all, what's meant to be will be.

Some times I don't believe it though, like I love making you laugh and I think about it and all I've done is scare you and punch you in the arm…not hard, but enough for your eyes to widen. This has nothing to do with anything, really.

I'm getting off track. This is what I've been trying to say throughout this entire letter:

Micah Lemuel Taylor Gourley, I like you.


Stacy Avonlea Lane



I liked it alot, major kudos. I love the way that you wrote it, it isn't quite poetry, but it is all in the same.

this goes along with a story that I am writing, called, I have a fascination, it has alot of the same in it and besides the europe, is fact. It started just mentioning this guy, and now is about him. anyways, enought about me, very good job!


Wow, this is really good. I like your writing style. Very emotional and very easy to relate to. I always find myself pining for guys who wouldn't think twice about me in a romantic sense...Though it seems like there's hope in your? case.

Onion Ring

I think it is very good, especially the first installment. there are some grammatical errors, but that is only expected. i think this really does show how love can be bittersweet.

Brandon Byron

This piece reminded me of something I've wrote. Everyone's moped around about a girl/guy and sometimes it's cool to know that you're not alone in experiencing these feelings. I think that's the strongest thing about this; every human being alive can relate to it.

I'm also interested in the quotation marks around 'sister.' It leaves me wondering is it a) your sister b) someone you consider to be your 'sister' c) something entirely different. The beauty of the ambivalence adds to that collective thought that the piece evokes though. Whether it's intentional to deliberately leave it vague, I don't know, but it works fantastically.