One word prompt: crush
Dear (est) Candace Collier,
Hi.
How are you? I hope you’re having a nice day. I really do.
I’m Ben, the boy who sits behind you in English class. You probably don’t know who I am because I don’t talk in class and I’m not funny or loud like some of the other boys you usually talk to.
I’ve sat behind you every day for the last four months. That’s a long time. But it is okay, I just stare at your long chestnut colored hair. You have very pretty hair.
You’re probably going to turn around right now to try to see what I look like, but I’ve already left for my next class. I’m a bit of a coward, and I didn’t want to see you rip this paper up into shreds or laugh or something like that. If you were planning on doing something like that, please don’t.
I’ll describe myself. I’m plain, I guess, that’s why you’ve never noticed me, even though I’ve been in your class for ten years now. I have brownish black hair that hangs in wisps around my face and looks messed up no matter what I do with it. I wear thick glasses that I have to wear because I don’t have perfect vision and contact lenses make my eyes water terribly so my eyes look like twin waterfalls. I guess it doesn’t really matter what color my eyes are underneath that because they’re hard to see anyways. I’m not short and I’m not tall; I’m average.
I’m smart. Please don’t think I’m bragging or anything; I say it like I would say ‘the sky is blue’ or ‘apples are fruits’. It’s just that I’m not athletic and I’m not popular and I’m not cool, so by process of elimination, I must be smart, right?
If you’re still reading at this point, thanks! You’re probably also wondering why I’m writing this.
I don’t really know why I’m writing this. I guess I woke up this morning and the sun was shining bright and the birds were singing (really, they were) and I felt really happy, like nothing would go wrong. I guess I wanted to make sure you felt some of that happiness, too.
And also, I think I’m in love with you.
Wait! Before you start laughing and thinking things like “This kid is crazy! He doesn’t even know me” or “It’s too early for love” or stuff like that, let me just say a couple of things.
I remember the first day of kindergarten. You had your hair in two pigtails and they kept bouncing around in front of your face and you had on this pink lace dress and pink knee socks and like fifty pink bows in your hair. I thought that you were a piece of cotton candy. I really wanted to lick you to see if you would taste sweet. Thankfully I didn’t; that would have been embarrassing.
You were holding on to your mom’s hand really tight and she was trying to pull away because I think she was late for work or something. My mom gave me a big hug, but your mom just wrenched her hand out of yours and walked away.
I thought that you should have gotten a hug, too. I asked my mom to give you a hug, but she said no, and tousled my hair.
You didn’t cry on the first day of school, but I did.
In second grade, I broke my arm. It was stupid. Not some big hero story where I saved a cat from a tree. Not a cool sport story where I scored the winning goal or basket or whatever with my limp arm dangling to my side.
Actually, my fan fell on me when I was sleeping.
Anyway, this was second grade, when everyone was friends, so everyone in our class signed my cast. Including you.
