the three years
8:07 p.m.

I remember way back three years ago when I met you. You hung out with Carl during art class, and as much as i looked up to carl for being popular and shit, i looked up to you more for some reason. you had this attitude that was standoffish yet completely irresistable.

you dont know it, but when carl came home last year i fucking snapped at him. looking at him, it was the epitome of everything i hated about myself that year. all the popularity i had once wished to attain, it was all in his eyes and his ralph lauren shirt and doc martens with fucking buckles on them.

you were my secret. i told few people about you, if any. you werent like other guys. you were nice, and you were deep, and you could see your soul in your eyes, as opposed to the name brands in every other guys eyes.

I still see all of that in your eyes when i sit next to you at lunch, drinking vernors.

I remember how much it hurt at the end of that year when you liked my best friend. stung like a bitch. I remember thinking that at least this way i could be friends with you.

And last year you didnt go to my school. but this year you do. flaunting your pre-cal sophomore self even though we're the same age and im just a freshmen.

last year it went away. i still thought of you on occasion, but never for long and i never let myself think about you the way i used to. and then ever since you got 4th hour lunch for the 2nd semester, those thoughts are coming back and they throb in pain more than they did before.

I've got no chance at all.

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