The Difficulties of Loving YOU.

Horrors of you.

Zachary,
When I was in 4th grade and you were in 5th I would always see you in the lunchroom. And when it was time to dump our trays I always had to walk by your table, and I was always so nervous to walk by you. I mean, we were "dating", but we never really talked at school. We only hung out sometimes during the school year, but mainly during the summer. You see, at our school, I'm sure you remember, that whenever a kid dropped their lunch tray, the whole cafeteria would go "oooooo" and it was the most embarrassing thing for the kid who dropped their tray. Well I was always worried I would drop my tray by you. That would be embarrassing and you would have probably been embarrassed too.

During the summer I went with you, your mom, and your two neighbors, Rich and Chase, to her classroom while she did some work. We watched the snake eat a mouse live, we were horrified. It tried swallowing it sideways and choked on the mouse. It writhed and wiggled and tried to get air, but couldn't and died with the mouse lodged sideways in its throat. That was my first experience with death. I think it was yours too, and we were terrified.

When I was in 5th grade and you were in 6th, we would always sit together at football games. I never understood football, but you were patient and tried to help me understand. "What is that four thingy at the end of the field called?" I would ask. "Well, that four thingy is called a field goal." "Oh. Ok." I remember your other 6th grade friends would joke about us not holding hands and not having ever kissed and not sitting super close together. You were embarrassed that I was younger than you. You were embarrassed that your friends had already "made out" with their girlfriends and we never even kissed. You were embarrassed by me. I knew it. I could tell. They nagged and nagged and picked and bothered and I hated them for it. I hated them. At one football game you asked me to come with you to the parking lot. I went but I knew what was coming and I was scared. I was scared to kiss you. I was scared that I would hate it, but I was even more scared that I would like it. I was in 5th grade then. I was terrified. I mean, come on, kissing is grown up stuff. "Will you kiss me?" You had asked. "I don't know...." I told you. "It's not scary. It's super fast. I promise." "Ok." And then we kissed. It was only a peck and for that I was grateful. It maybe lasted 2 seconds at most. You asked if I thought we should tell our friends and in the end we agreed to tell only one friend. But alas, my nerves got the best of me and my stomach was twisted in knots and the butterflies in their couldn't flutter about like they needed. I went and told my babysitter that I didn't feel good and we left. As soon as I got home I threw up. I threw up the butterflies in my stomach that I had for you. I threw up my nerves. I threw up the 2 pieces of pizza, the pickle, and the bag of m&ms I had eaten at the game. Let's just say that wasn't my most pleasant experience. Too bad I associated it with kissing. Too bad I associated it with you.