I grew up on a street named Dahlia Avenue, in a small town where everybody knew each other by name. I went to a small Catholic school with about 200 students. Among those 200 students was a boy. He was not just any boy. He was special. There was always something about him that made him stand out from the crowd, something that made him unique.
From an early age I had my eye on him.
There was something irresistible about him. He could have any girl he wanted, and that's why I knew he would never choose me.
He lived down the street from me. 11 houses down to be exact. I grew up wanting to be his friend, wanting to know him, wanting him to know me.
For some reason I knew I would never be special enough to hold his attention. I was ordinary. Simply simple. There was nothing that made me special. I was his polar opposite. All I could do is try to grab his gaze any way I knew possible.
First and second grade were dull, I spent my time staring and day-dreaming of the things that would never be. It so odd to find someone so young who already knows what they want.
Third grade was when I decided I needed to try harder. I became the class clown, or what I thought a class clown was. My sense of humor was what most would call harsh. Instead of thinking before I spoke, I thought after. I said terrible things that I thought were funny. I made everyone hate me while I was trying to make one person like me. At the end of the day, I would go home and cry because of the terrible things I said.
I ended up being diagnosed with a severe anxiety disorder after I had to visit a doctor who specialized in stomach pains. My anxiety caused me to not eat, which created sharp pains in my stomach. I would complain about the pains and not explain why. My mom got worried and made an appointment with a specialist who said it was merley stress. After a while we figured out the stress was being caused over me worrying constantly about people not liking me because of what I said.
It is hard to imagine a third grader with an anxiety disorder. After I was diagnosed the story kept going down hill.
Fourth grade stayed the same, I did small things to impress him, but nothing held his attention on me.
