November 10th

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November 10th

You see, I have no fantastic story.
I wasn't bullied, my parents are happily married, I love my siblings and I've never felt the need to cut my arms.

But, you. You have a fantastic story, I can see it. In your eyes and the way that they crinkle when you try to hold back a laugh.

This is the story of us.

The ups and downs, curves and edges.

But it's a different story then what I've ever read, because you see, I've never met you.
And we won't fall in love and we won't share a kiss and you won't hold me when I cry.

This starts November ninth, at 12:09 pm. On a school day.

The first thing I noticed was your pants.
They were denim and fitted. And before you think I'm some perverted chick, I only noticed because you kept trying to re roll your pant leg cuff.

The second thing I noticed was your shoes.
They were not Adidas slides, or even converse, they were those Chaka boots.
They were scuffed and had bits of grey mud on the bottom.

My eyes trailed up to your chest. You were wearing a v-neck tee shirt with hearts on it.

You were looking away, so I peeked at your face.
You weren't beautiful.
You didn't have a jawline to cut marble.

Dots of acne littered your pale face, I noticed a slight scar on your lip, you had the shortest eyelashes I've ever seen.

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