Some real life feelings. Who knew I could be so damn sappy?
I haven't seen you in person since last June, yet that one common place is still painted with memories of you. I've been walking down the hall, just living a normal day in the present. Then the thoughts of you will come down like a curtain to make my heart ache dully, an ache like the first day I realized that you could never be just a friend to me.
That first day, back when I was new and nervous and a little less hopeless. When I realized that I liked how you smiled, how you laughed, how you made me laugh. When I realized I was happier when you were there, a strange happiness that I'd felt before, but never quite like this.
I think it was the same day I knew that I would never be more than a friend to you, if that. I was the quiet kid who knew everything and nothing, a self-conscious self-proclaimed dork with an awkward streak a mile wide. I don't think we could have been more opposite if we tried. But you gave me a nickname, one that I'll never forget. I'll never forget you.
Memorizing every trivial thing you told me about yourself, every insignificant little thing that we had in common, like a penchant for Linkin Park and fruity candy. Savoring every casual look and brush of touch in class, the way you'd playfully touch my knee when I wore the jeans with the holes in them, the ones that I don't wear anymore. The way you'd poke me in my soft sides to make me laugh at inappropriate times. Knowing that all of this meant nothing to you, but pressing the memories close to my chest anyway. Counting down the days until I'd never see you again, and cursing time for going by so fast.
Already forgotten is the smell of your cologne, a little too strong then but faded to nothing now. Already lost to the ages are the jokes that our little trio had that last year, one of the best things that ever happened to me in that place. Already faint is the pain of seeing you smile brighter at girls who weren't me.
I had a dream about you, once. Nothing I couldn't say out loud, because my subconscious is a pure being. We were walking in the hallway, talking, in a strange alternate version of that place, the way all of my dreams from there are. Because that's all I ever wanted - a special moment or two with you.
Sometimes I want to just talk to you for real - not just the occasional "how are you" and "I've been fine" - and tell you all the things I've never been able to say. To scatter my feelings on the ground like so many grains of sand, at your mercy. But I'll never do it, never admit to you just how special I think you are, just how much I wish you would be there next Monday when I walk through those doors again. I'm so desperately afraid that you'll stop talking to me completely, that I'll be cut off by something much more powerful than miles. I'm afraid that you won't mind, too, possibly more afraid, because I don't know how to mean anything to you. I don't know how to be anything but that girl in a couple of your classes, the one with the glasses and the easy laugh and the awkward smile. I'll never say a word to you, because I know that you can't care, and because I wouldn't know how to exist even if you did.
I miss you, and I wonder if these memories will ever fade. I want them to, because I want to stop aching, but I want them preserved in the museum of my mind all the same. They're all I have left of you.