I became aware of a large, hulking figure to my left. He -I realized- bent down to pick up the thing I was considering, one step ahead of me. It was him.



Him. He. He who I had dreamed of, daydreamed of, fantasized about. He who I couldn’t keep my eyes away from. He who I wanted with all my heart so badly. Too badly.

And suddenly, I was angry at him. All those hours I had spent worrying, fretting, dreaming, planning about him, had come to nothing. Nothing. All those tiny signs I thought meant something, and he hadn’t even made a move.

I thought, maybe the reason I thought I cared for him so much was that I so wanted to be him. There were so many things he had that I was jealous of.

I envied his ease of speaking to the other sex. He seemed shy, gentle-spoken, but why did he have so many friends? I hated his effortless humor, the goofiness that came naturally to him. Or did I love it? Both, I think.



I hated that as he bent down, self-assurance just floated along next to him. I hated him, at that moment, for all the times I had worried about how I looked, how I acted, what I did, just because he was there. I hated him for messing up my life. For giving me false hope. Dreams that would and will never come true. Dreams that would only hurt me in the end.

And I thought, is this the end of my imaginary relationship with so-called “the one?” Is this the fight between us that ends everything? That breaks us apart into pieces beyond repair? The fight that so pitifully, was only in my head?

At first, I gloried in this idea. No one ruling my life, dictating my actions. One less thing to worry and turn grey about.

But then it saddened me. I realized that I didn’t want to give up this fleeting dream, this illusion that had so filled my days. It had given me happiness, short at best, but still something to hold on to. I didn’t want to crush my own hopes in a single, conscious choice. I wondered if I had already.



He turned around, walked back past me. How dare it be so easy for him? How could anyone possess the ability to twist my gut and jumpstart my heart so perfectly? How was it even possible that anyone so handsomely-magnetic existed? It should have been a crime. It should’ve never been allowed to happen. Because it would only cause me more pain.

So was it over then? Would he live in my thoughts as my next hated enemy as so many other boys had become before him? The boys I so unfairly held and hold accountable for just not doing anything? The charge I would hold a grudge against for eternity?

Would he become just another boy to me? Only time would tell.

But for then, I stared as he walked away; my mind, my heart, my gut not my own. Enslaved by him. Manacled to his subconscious.

He stole this innocent moment from me. And I hate him for it.