Loving the Enemy

Kyle-11

Dear no one,
Sometimes I wonder if it's me who keeps her up at night and that follows her into her dreams as she sleeps. I wonder if it's me who she wakes up out of bed thinking of and if its me who follows her throughout the day. I wonder if I'm the reason she doesn't push the snooze button on her alarm clock, I wonder if she sneaks glances at me when I'm not looking. I wonder if she wonders about me. Or if it's just I who has this issue
-Kyle

I'm afraid that one day I'm going to wake up and no longer hate her.
I've been up all night with my eyes closed trying to sleep , only to be haunted by the image of light brown eyes that shine so bright it hurts my own.
As I sit up with a cramp in my neck and pain in my lower back I glance over to the other side of the room to see a small girl curled up into a ball using a stack of paper as a pillow. I'm disgusted by the small smile my lips almost formed into before I quickly shook myself out of whatever lucid state I must have still been in.

Why her.
Why out of billions of people in the world and out of the thousands of them my eyes have briefly glanced over in the last few years of me being alive, did it have to be Olivia Kingston who i lived next door to, who i have to hate, who i get locked into the principal's office with. Why do i have to know her name better than I know my own, why does it feels like just yesterday when I first heard it.

I often try to recreate scenarios that took place in my life as if they had never even involved her. As if she had never even existed, well at least if she had never existed in my life, but in doing so I only seem to feed more into the idea that life without her wouldn't even be life at all.

And I'm terrified to think that what I last said to her could be a lie.

That it could possible for me to wake up one day and everything that I've built out of hatred for the last few years will come crumbling down before my very own eyes.