Wow, someone better hand me an Oscar for Best Actress right now because in these last thirty minutes, I've been the greatest actress in the world. I mean, he's sitting right there. Right in front of me. How in the world am I even holding back all the love I have for this man? I must be stronger than I credit myself for being. It's been over a year and a half, now. Eighteen whole months. More than enough time to learn to love this beautiful creature right before my eyes. To learn his strengths and weaknesses. To watch Aaron smile and laugh and frown in frustration. It's been a year and a half to slowly and all together fall in love with him, yearn for him, and accept all of his perfections and imperfections as if they were my own. He and I have been the greatest friends the last three years of high school, but that's all we will ever be. In freshman year, I had a stupid, shallow crush on him, got over it when I started dating some other people, but then realized that I really, truly loved him when we started junior year. How much longer can I lock these feelings and words I want to say inside my head? One way or another, something is going to crash and break and burn, whether it's my mind and soul or my love for him, and I’m not ready to let this passion die out.

I'm destroying myself. Not physically, but close enough. Actually, I'd rather have physical pain instead of the sadness that keeps on renewing itself with every glance, every thought of him. Not a breath passes where I don't think about him. And with those thoughts, a stabbing is felt in my stomach and chest. So yes, physical pain is greatly appreciated. At least then I know where it's coming from and can have control over it. That way, while I bleed, I can focus on something else for four seconds. It gives me just enough time to remind myself to eat, to dress myself, to brush my teeth, and to keep living. Though, if I seriously think about it, there isn’t much left to keep living for. Nothing much to look forward to, since all I want is him, though I have come to accept that I won't get him. But apparently, my entire being hasn't let the thought of him go. I am at crossroads between not wanting to try anymore and not wanting to be so weak and give up.

The hardest is when I go to bed. Oh, how I absolutely loath the minutes, sometimes hours, before I fall asleep. Nothing to keep me company but my mind’s inner demons to come out and play in the dark. The inside death trap called “my mind” fills me up with love for him, hatred for myself, and hope that excellently breeds despair, plummeting me into a tear-filled wasteland.

But here I find myself sitting across the table from him. My best friend, Spencer invited us out to get pizza with his girlfriend, Violet, who is also a good friend, along with Lynette and Dylan, but those two are so infatuated with what the other has to say, it doesn’t seem like they’re with us at all. Spencer is the only other human that knows of my… affection for Aaron, though I'm sure Violet suspects everything, whether or not Spencer has told her already. But if she has figured it out, I am grateful she hasn’t brought it up, since I'm not the best at talking to people about how I feel. I usually have a big smile plastered on my face most of the time. I'm always laughing, too. When I first admitted to Violet that I went through a depressive phase not too long ago, she had a hard time believing it was true. Her exact words were “I can never imagine you not being happy all the time.” It helps that I can’t conceal many things since my face tends to give a lot away. That’s why I always smile; to push the sad in my eyes behind the happy, sparkling mask I’ve given myself so no one has to worry about me. Violet and I have gotten much closer since she and Spencer started dating, so I’m sure she can read me like an open book by now.

That’s one of the greatest things that baffles me about Aaron. Has he seriously not noticed that I love him? That is just one of the many trigger questions that shove me into a dark, deep epitome of despair, because if he hasn’t noticed, does that mean that he doesn’t care about me at all? Not even as a friend? Am I that worthless and unimportant in his life? That easy to be brushed aside? Would he even care if I didn’t show up to school the next day? Would he question it? Would he worry? Maybe worry is too strong of a word. Would Aaron even notice if I was missing from class for a whole week? I seriously doubt it.

But if he has noticed I get flustered around him, what does he think about it? I'm sure he doesn’t think about it at all. Maybe he just tries to ignore it and push it out of his mind like a disturbing fact someone hears in health class.

So while we all sit down to eat, I try to get the farthest seat from him, knowing he wouldn’t think anything out of the ordinary of it, but, as luck would have it, the table is round and even the farthest seat ends up with me facing him.

Stay calm, Gwen, I tell myself. This is just one of the hundreds of times you have gone out with your friends. Nothing is different. We will all just eat pizza, make fun of each other, and go home.  We do this every single weekend. This Saturday night isn’t any different. You need to put your social-and-happy-face on, Gwen. NOW.

And I do. But it has only been thirty-three minutes now, and we just started eating our pizza. It is taking all of my will power not to jump up, yell at the man sitting in front of me, and confess my love that I have stored away these eighteen months. Instead, I glance over at Spencer. He meets my eyes and gives me an encouraging half-smile and a little nod. Seeing his calm, collected presence gives me strength to take a deep breath, smile back, and continue eating my pizza while I laugh at the stupid puns Violet makes and join in to tease Lynette and Dylan for being anti-social with the rest of us.

Before I know it, it has been two hours already and the night is nearing its end. We walk out the restaurant and say our goodbyes in the parking lot. I hug Violet goodnight, but don’t dare lay a finger on Lynette. She isn’t a touchy-feely person. Getting yelled at once is enough to make me learn not to do it anymore. I smile once more at everyone before I turn to my car. I give an especially caring smile to Aaron, hoping he would return it in some way or another, but he doesn’t see me. So before I stand there a second too long, smiling like an idiot, I walk over to my car, get in, and drive home, but not without a last glance over at Aaron, who is laughing insanely hard with Dylan and Spencer, flashing that smile that causes my stomach to flutter and fly up to my throat, making my want to bring up all the pizza I ate in the last hour-and-a-half because I know very well that I will never be able to call him mine.

Once at home, I go into my bathroom, hiding the tears that streaked my face since the car, and tell my parents that I had a long night and that I'm going to turn in early. I turn on the shower, letting them believe that I'm going to bathe. They don’t know that behind the locked door, on the other side of the shower curtain, there is a pathetic girl crying from heartache, depression, and the pain inflicted by a razor running vertically across her left wrist, leaving trails of blood that closely resemble her tears.
I take in a deep breath, count the seconds, and focus on the pain. One…eat, Gwen. Two…dress yourself, Gwen. Three…brush your teeth, Gwen. Four…keep living, Gwen.