Dear, Him.

I want you. That was what i thought every time i look at you, looking into your eyes from afar. You barely notice me. But i do. I stopped trying to flirt with other guys, even the ones i was currently dating. I wanted you. My heart hurts whenever I see you talking with other girls and bestowing upon them your captivating smile. Why? You should only look at me. I can give you the world, i can make you happier than those silly girls. The fact that you are three years younger than me doesn't concern me in the slightest. You're an artist, just like me. I can bring you joy. I will always be there for you, just as you would be there for me...right? Absolutely. Unfortunately, you barely acknowledge my existence, perceiving me solely as an older student who initiated an insignificant art club. You don't see me the way I see you.