English Class

9/12/14

9/12/14

I remember that it hurt. Looking at her hurt. That is a line from one of my favorite movies. I have come to realize how much I can relate to the boy in that movie, Rusty. He too was in love with a girl, and his too was hurting, just like mine. I guess I can say his because he eventually gets the girl (duh). But I can't say mine, because she's not mine. She never will be. This 'she' I am talking about is Andy. Andy is the most beautiful woman in the world, apart from maybe Olivia Wilde. I am writing this in English class. Our teacher told us that a way to help our writing skills is to write in a journal every day. We were given this assignment on Wednesday, when I had karate after school, and had Thursday in between, when I had too much other homework, so I'm starting today. I just glanced back to Andy and found her staring at me. She probably noticed my many glances toward her. When the teacher handed out journals she told him that she already had one that she already writes in daily. I wish I was as good in this class as she is but I am not. She picks all this up so easily. I probably have been using way too many commas in this and I probably have a few run-on sentences. Maybe a few misspelled words. Who knows? I don't. I feel like I'm not supposed to use epostrophies in writing. Was that even spelled right? Probably not. The bell will ring soon. More about my nonexistent love life later.

9/12/14

It is so natural to me to write every day. I can tell that it is not the same for most of the students. He isn't included in that. Even if it isn't normal for him, or easy, at least he is able to write without much break. Most kids just flick wads of paper at each other. I wish I knew what captured his attention so firmly. I wish the words that he spilled across those pages were about me. I know that many of the previous pages of this book are filled with thoughts of him but I will continue to express these feelings here because here is the only place that I can express them. I love him. With every fiber of my heart. I think of his eyes, my favorite part of him, they are so dazzling. This thick, chocolatey brown. They sparkle when he laughs and smiles. There are these little, tiny crinkles beside his eyes, they show up along with his dimples. I love his crinkles and his dimples. I know that his birthday is October 5th, three days after mine. I really want to do something for him for his birthday, but I am afraid that he does not like me as much as I like him. I wrote the day before yesterday about this assignment. It does not change anything in my writing life but I am quite enjoying watching him write. It is highly entertaining to see him so focused on it. He looked over at me! Ugh! Why am I such a fool?! I should not have stared. Now he surely thinks I am some sort of creep. I have noticed that a lot of the kids are actually writing now. I have been wanting to cry all day. I had more nightmares last night. I think Theo can tell when I want to cry. I might be imagining it but he seems sadder when he looks at me. The dream was about Mom's accident. I hate these dreams. I have not dreamt of Beth for a while. At least that is one memory that I have not had to relive. But now the teacher is telling us to pack up.

Andy