Interracial One Direction Preferences and Imagines (BWWM)

Someone Special (specialty writtig about me)

If you have not noticed I love to talk about myself. I love looking in the mirror and I love telling myself WOWZA YOU A HOT BOMB ASS MOFO. But I can not love myself and talk about myself outside of my door. I feel ugly when I leave my comforting home. I look down and see the rolls that come from my love of food. I look in the mirror and see the acne and the fat cheeks that make me look 10. The short hair that was once long but since I wanted to be the hero I donated some of it. I don't see that BOMB ASS MOFO anymore.

Then you tell me I have a cute smile and my laugh make your day. I crack that smile and pull the guitar out of my locker. We head to the courtyard and play music together then we talk about me, my least and favorite subject of all time.

I see you wanting to ask the question that has bugging you since you came here. But I shoot you down because I'm hurt. I tell you I can't do this and I get up and walk away. I put my guitar up and avoid you for 16 days and 3 hours. I counted because I actually have the same feeling as you I think.

You come up to me and compliment my eyes. These boring brown and blue eyes. And you ask for help on a piece for music. We sit and talk and laugh and you stare. I turn to get up but you stop me. You ask why can't I stand to be around you, but I just can't tell you because I don't want you to see this side of me. The sad, ugly me that never wants love.

It's the last day of school now and I do something for a change. I dress up, I put on a little thing called makeup, and actually do my hair. I want you to see this side of me the side of my that ready to come clean and ready to love you and me.

Then I see her. She. The one that told me that she would never have a chance with you taking her chance. That desperate girl. I see you crack that smile that I thought was only meant for me and I hear that laugh that I knew was only meant for me.

I walk away thinking how stupid was i to ever think that we had the same feelings. To ever think we would have a chance. To wonder why I even tried to come clean to you.

So the day has ended and I'm laying here in the comfort of my own bed. I see your texts asking if I was okay earlier and the missed FaceTimes because of I see your face I know I will cry because I think I like you. But didn't I say I loved you. What if I like you and you love me or what of you like me and I like you?

Maybe I will never know. Maybe one day but not anytime soon. I'm sorry that I love/like you.