Whomever

eighteen

I saw her yesterday. She was beautiful as always. It's strange though. She showed up three minutes late which isn't like her. Plus she normally volunteers to drive me but this time she gave the job to someone else. I don't know why. I think she might be avoiding me. Throughout the meeting I felt eyes on me. I think it was her. Twords the end she got close and whispered in my ear "I have a present for you". That was the most amazing sentence I have ever heard. It ended up being a few magazines that she thought I would like. I don't know why I was so happy to get them. I guess that it's proof that she thinks of me. She has been avoiding me though. She got there late. She hardly spoke to me, but i'm pretty sure she was the one watching me. She gave me a gift and she hugged me goodbye. I think she might like me. Maybe she likes me. She's married and I'm underage so that could be why she seems to be distancing herself. I hope she likes me. I saw that she read an email I sent her but she didn't reply. Fuck I hope she loves me like I love her. My soul is screaming for her and I feel caged. Too much love in my body. I never feel more complete than when i'm around her. She is brilliant. We only have five more meetings including the three performances. I will never see her again after May sixth. I hate it. I hate myself for loving her. I hate the world for making me love her. I feel too real. Too alive. If it's possible to be too human then I am. Far too human. Far too real. I will never see her again after May sixth. May sixth is the day I might not be able to make it through. May seventh will be worse. After that, if i'm alive it will be a miracle. I love her so much it hurts. I hate myself for loving her. I wish I could hate her, it would be so much easier to just fucking hate her. But I can't. I love her and I need her. I need her like I need air. I wish I could show this to her. I wish for so many things. To show her this. To be free to love her. For her to love me. To get out of this town. To be with her, right now. If I was sitting in her car with her right now then I would kiss her. I would kiss her more passionately than any man could ever dream of. I would love her. I would be there. But right now i'm not. I'm at home, in my room. I'm crying and complaining with the same passion that I would put towards kissing her. She is so perfect. Her short curly hair is beautiful. I. Love. Her. I love Suzanne. I love Ana. That's her real name. Ana. I love her more than I can comprehend. I love her like I love breathing. I love her like I love the world. I may not be allowed to love her. But I do. I love Ana.