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1.0 ; M i c h a e l .

I like you.

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M i c h a e l

Birds singing. Dishes clashing. Cool morning air. Today is Saturday. There are horizontal beams of light melting on the hardwood floor, shadows from leaves and tree branches, making a painting before my eyes. My back hurts from lying in bed so long. I just cant help it though. I can't stop thinking about her. Ever since the homecoming dance, I've felt this way. Its stronger than ever before but I'm just not sure... I'm not sure. Not yet.

I remember her face when she walked into class. She was full of smiles as everyone said her name in symphony. 'heyyyyy' she said before taking her seat. She started talking to anyone and everyone she knew from the year before. There were about 5 new kids. Me, being one of them. She was pretty friendly and easy to get along with. It wasn't awkward when i was with her. Not at all. I didn't get nervous or anything. But that was 5 years ago. And alot of things have changed since then. Alot.

I remember, she used to sing so good. In some Christian schools, you have Chapel, and on Fridays we would sing about 10 or so songs. It was so pretty and calming. She told me she could play guitar and piano, and would sing her own songs. I can still imagine her, strumming and singing that little song of hers, her shirt slipping off her shoulder along with her hair. I remember the way she would dress up her uniform...knee high socks, boots, flannel, and chokers. She usually wore her hair down, but occasionally she would wear it up, she was so cute. Her laugh and her personality, i couldn't believe she was real. She had to be fake. She had to be. I felt as if the more i told myself that, the more i would believe it. Until one day, in grade 8, i saw how real she was.

It was the drawings on her wrist she tried so desperately to hide. I never asked her about it, not wanting to embarrass her or invade her privacy... And i kinda regret it now. Because the longer i waited, the more she drew. God, i regret that. I never understood why or how. She smiled so much, laughed so hard, and loved so long. Why would such a perfect creature, carve their own skin with hate? If only she knew how perfect she was.

You know, i really like the way her hair flows, and how her lips move. I wonder if she's aware. I wonder if she's aware of how beautiful her back looks, or how gorgeous her legs are. I know her like the back of my hand, i could write a book about her. I just, i really wonder sometimes . . .

What does she know about me ?