Earbuds ❥ a novel. (#Wattys2017)

24: Reflection.

Before graduation, I couldn't imagine not seeing Bus Boy every day. I couldn't imagine my life without a glimpse of him. I didn't know what I was supposed to do when I would be haunted by the ghost of him, the memory of him, the pain of him. Call me dramatic, but having a crush is one hell of a battle to fight- if you come out alive, or even half the person you were beforehand. It's like an addiction you can't shake, a drug you can't get yourself off of unless you never see it again. It's a lot of pain, especially when you go through it like I did- fully knowing that the object of your admiration had no interest in you and no idea who you were. It was like being inches away from death and not being able to run away. In such a case, you accept your death. I was no different; I accepted death, embraced it with open arms. It was a slow, painful death, with many ups and downs along the way- and now that he's gone forever, I can rest in pieces, finally.

So, in a last (for real this time) brief letter to you, Bus Kid, I say:

Wow, hun. You made it hard for me. You made it hard to talk to you (which I thankfully never worked up the courage to do), to smile at you, to indicate that I was not actually a bitch, and to even become your friend (which, as you all know, a friendship starts on Instagram). I was a lonely sailor, and yours were the eyes that stole me right from the sea. Although it should be noted that I've only ever looked you in the eyes once- but that was all it took. Just once.

I am now among the new 'generation' of seniors at the school. Next year, in late may, I will be the one inflicting emotional pain upon others. I will be the one finally freed of my bondage, only to be tied up once again in college. Hopefully, by then, I'll have forgotten about you. But I know that I won't. Pain is a thing easily felt but rarely forgotten. It is inked into your skin, it penetrates to the core of your very being, and it poisons you, damning you to a slow death.

This is Crushed and Bitter Senior Girl, signing off for the last time. It hasn't been a pleasure flying with you.