It all started in middle school. Hormones raging self hatred a flame and friends that were fuel to the fire.
Middle school was full of the worst years. I was crushing on the guy I knew I'd never be with because he didn't like me. Even if he did he's trouble. He likes other girls. Prettier, ruder, girls who didn't like him back. It'd be easier if they did. Then I couldn't want him.
No matter how hard I tried the sweet at heart, bad boy, Baylor, never noticed me as more than the goody two shoes that sat at his lunch table. "Crimson", coming out of his mouth when he needed my help with something like homework assignments he'd never do, sounded like heaven to me. Through out middle school I dated mostly younger guys but never really cared much for them all I could think of was him. Him and how much I hated myself because he didn't love me.
