Crushed

I saw you during my first semester here; a doe-eyed freshman tagging along to every event. I noticed you immediately. I wish I could say it was your looks. That would be easier, but I’d be lying. I wish I could say it was your voice. As a singer, it’s the first thing I look for, but I think I fell even before that. And while both of those things did attract me, that wasn’t what did me in. It was the way you danced and laughed and looked like you were having the time of your life— as if there was nowhere you belonged more than up on that stage. And then all of a sudden the thought hit me.

Could I make you smile like that?

You sat in the back. I sat at the front. I went through that cloud nine phase where I would drag myself out of bed even though I dreaded going to that class. You became my excuse to get all dolled up, for daydreaming, for randomly smiling throughout the day. I mean most people consider me a social butterfly (though I am most certainly introverted) and usually I have no problem striking up a conversation. But I think I uttered a total of three words by the time you got to your next class. To give me some credit, I didn’t die on the spot when you asked me for my number. I did, however, wake my roommate from a nap to tell her practically every single detail of what happened. But then I discovered you had a girlfriend (which apparently you never found important enough to mention). Immediately I knew I had to get over it. And lucky for me, I didn’t see you for another semester so I could forget about you. Then bam right after another dramatic semester of another guy (awful story really), you came back. As in I literally bumped right into you on my way to class. We got coffee against my better judgment and just like that, I fell again. pexels-photo-324028.jpeg

Then came hell week. I changed my entire schedule around just to avoid you. But I still ran into you four times. And if I didn’t run into you I ran into your girlfriend. Fun. I know. I almost went crazy if I’m to be honest with you. It didn’t really help that at the time, I was also helping a friend out and ended up going back on Tinder with her. Lo and behold who do I see, but you? Turns out you guys just broke up. And most people would probably jump for joy, throw a party, invite you even. But, me? I was mad. Furious. Didn’t fate have anything more important to do? And again I lost all sense of judgment (which is really terrible considering I want to study law). I went over when it was practically midnight. I knew what you wanted and to some degree, I knew what I wanted, too. I needed to figure out, for myself, whether I really liked you. Here’s the funny thing. You’ve made me happy. You’ve made me sad. You’ve made me mad. But most of all (though I can only say this in retrospect) you’ve made me thankful. Because yes I liked you. I liked you a lot. And when you played my favorite song on the guitar I was practically a puddle.

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Looking in the mirror now (ironically with your hickey on my neck) I’m over it. I’m over you. Because while I loved that light in your eye when you danced, I think the light I was really drawn to was my own. I was learning, through the course of you, what it felt like to have a real crush. Finally, for better or for worse my first crush has been crushed.

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