The sky outside is dark, but the sadness in my heart is darker. A short bus trip later, and I'm going to be subjugated again to feelings I do not want. The shaky legs, the quickened heart, the lack of air so that my head swims. Why am I like this? What spell is it that you have over me? What do you want out of this? Why do you do this to me? Do you really enjoy ruining me that much? I feel like a giddy little princess, the skinny little blond one that's breathtakingly beautiful. I feel like her, staring into the eyes of a strong, brave, and loving man. But I'm not a princess, and you're no man. You're a cowardly little boy that hides from his feelings, and is embarrassed by his emotions. Then why do I like you? Everything I've learned about you is much less than admirable. You have very crappy morals, especially when it comes to women. Sure, you're attractive, but that's not what counts. Who wants to date a model with the personality of moldy cheese? I wouldn't think I'd want to, and yet here I sit, pondering what would have, could have, and should have happened between us.

I thought that when I found him, I had wiped my slate clean of you. And at first, it seemed true. After all, I had good reason to be angry with you, and I still am. For once, my heart didn't need to be brought under control. I could look at you and not feel a thing. Sure, I still thought you were cute. But I didn't think anything about it. I could stand next to you and it wasn't breathtaking anymore, it was awkward, like it was supposed to be. I could finally pay attention to my friends, without that nagging thought in the back of my mind that reminded me you were right there next to me. I could finally go through my day without being anxious for the next time I got to see you. I no longer felt a longing and a loss when you were gone at Vocay or had stayed home sick, nor did I feel excited when you returned. I stopped having dreams about you, and thoughts about you were replaced with thoughts about him.

I thought you had left my heart, and that I had washed my hands of you; that you were gone from my life, an had melted into nothing more than a face that I could recognize in a crowd, but that I didn't care about. To borrow a phrase from my father, I guess that's what I get for thinking.

I looked at your face today and into those dark brown eyes, and you ruined it all over again. Suddenly, I was no longer over you. My heard raced, my head swirled thanks to the lack of oxygen, and I couldn't look at anyone else. You tore my heart in two, but we both know who I'll choose. As I sit here, pouring my guts on a stupid little piece of paper, I still have one remaining question that I care about. Will I ever really get over you?