To the Cute Boy in my Dorm

To the cute boy in my dorm, 

You don’t know it, but my roommate and I think that you’re really cute. We see you walk down the hallway and giggle to ourselves like middle schoolers. You’re really nice to everyone, and always go out of your way to help, like that one time when we set the fire alarm off in our room and you came over to help us turn it off before it set off the rest of the building. We were really embarrassed about it, but talk about it all the time, because “Whoa did you see how tall he was?” and “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe he was in our room!”

You say "hi" to us everytime we walk by you, and always ask how we are. We always tell you we’re good, even if we aren’t, because seeing you makes us feel a little better. My roommate and I wonder what you think of us, and wonder if maybe you might think one of us is cute too (it really doesn’t matter who). When we know you might be around, we dress a little nicer, smell a little better, and look a little prettier, because who knows what might happen, right?

You make me remember what it feels like to be young– I mean really young– again. Back to when my biggest trouble was whether so-and-so in the 8th grade looked at me today, or whether or not my mom would buy me the red scrunchies that everyone in 6th grade wore, or if I could find cuter cheetah print pants than the rest of my grade. You make me remember the simplicity of a simple school girl crush– the stupid, irrational, completely absurd crush that makes you giddy inside about the most miniscule things, but lowkey, you know is never going to go anywhere. I haven’t had one of those in a while.

With every passing year, I feel less and less like a teenager, and with good reason, too. My responsibilities are stacking up, my money is running out, and my time is getting more constrained. I don’t have those wonderful all nighters with my friends where we would bake cookies and watch movies and talk about everything under the moon, or have extra time to go have fun outside, barefoot and free, with no worries or responsibilities. Now, it’s lists and sticky notes, and calendars and time slots. It’s sending mass texts of ‘I’m sorry I can’t make it’, multi-tasking, and trying to get extra shifts for a little extra cash. With life getting tougher, days becoming more bleak, and sighs that reek of no sleep, it’s kind of nice to have that one little thing, the one guy in the room next to mine, with frizzy curly hair and a kind smile, to always bring me up inside. To remind me that I am, in fact, young, and I still have so much life to live. I still need to break hearts and have my heart broken, to go on wild random adventures, to travel the world, to revel in my dreams. I need to start saying "yes" rather than "no" or "maybe another time." 

So, to the cute boy in my dorm, Thanks.