I guess I might like someone more than I shoud??? I dont know. This girl goes to my school. Shes the sweetest, most kind person ever. Although I shouldn't say much. Everyone thought L (I'm using the first initial to signify people so I dont say names and so I dont get attacked) was so nice and sweet and amazing. Turns out she was the most manipulative, scary person ever. She tricked me for eight months straight. But I have this feeling that R is different. I dont know... although she will never feel the same, I just... really like her i guess? I liked her before Christmas break too, before all the chaos. I've liked her about a month now. I'm gonna try my best to describe her. Shes in 6th grade (I'm in 8th) and we have choir together. She likes Panic! At The Disco, she wears a blue hoodie almost all the time, she's a soprano in choir, she likes Thomas Sanders, and shes pansexual. She's slightly taller than me, she has short brown hair that's sort of... I dont know exactly how to describe it... sort of like thrown to the side a bit? Somehow she gives me so many butterflies by barely doing anything at all. Even doing something as simple as glancing in my direction can cause the butterflies to awaken. I always have the urge to glance at her in choir. When I do, shes usually looking somewhere around the alto section (yes, I'm an alto) or shes just looking off to wherever. Shes honestly so adorable. My best friend, E, says that shes kinda ugly. And it pisses me off. Just because shes mostly straight doesn't mean she has to call the one person I think is legit the most amazing person ever ugly. To me, shes legit so cute, adorable, everything. She'll never like someone like me, though. We're communicating through notes. Shes so sweet in them. What I mean by that is she doesnt give off like a mean, cold tone. Shes so nice and casual about it and I love it. Everyone else thinks shes so nice too. So far, she hasn't proven otherwise. I hope I dont mess things up. I might update this and say how things are going sometime soon.
