I have liked forty-six boys since the age of five. That's an average of just under five boys a year and nearly one boy every two and a half months. The truth is, boys don't like me. They just don't. At least, not the boys I fall into love with. I aim too high. I like boys who are entirely out of my league (for example, Talon Shumway - I loved him once). Boys don't like me and that's fine. But that's obviously never stopped me from liking boys.
I shall forever remember my first love. His name was Brandon. He sat next to me in first track kindergarten. He had dark hair and olive skin and pretty eyelashes. I sometimes would day dream about him (I've always been really good at daydreaming instead of listening in school). Then his family moved to Italy. And that was the end of that.
Since then it's all become some sort of a cycle, really. It goes a bit like this: See boy. Stare. Think about boy for many hours. Ask someone for his name. Stalk him for a bit. Get his number. Text. Become sort of friends. Text. Confess my love for him. Make things awkward. See new boy. Stare.
But things are slowly changing. I think I'm falling slowly in love with someone and that's scary. Cause this time, it might be for real. He's tall. He has dark hair and funny shoes. His car is in a state of constant messy-ness. He's intelligent. He wants to be psychologist. He remembers that I like to wish on clocks. He likes techno music and freestyle rap. Sometimes he winks when he sees me across the room. He gives good hugs. I know him. I trust him. I like the shape of his eyes.
And I hate his on-again-off-again girlfriend.
Read a book.
All my love,