crushes

Some people will hate you for not loving them.

Even when I'm sleeping, I go to places where you are.

I'll pluck out my eye with a pencil and eat it with a Spam and mustard sandwich IF ONLY you'll sit me at lunch today, MacKenzie!

Hey, get a load of those two! It must be mating season or something...

I won__ forget it,_ I said. __ hope you meet someone perfect one day.___a_yeah, that__ just it. I think I already did._ As we opened our doors to step out, he touched my arm. __ust to be clear, if I, like, leaned over and whispered your name in your ear, still nothing?

My mom believed that you make your own luck. Over the stove she had hung these old, maroon painted letters that spell out, __ANIFEST._ The idea being if you thought and dreamed about the way you wanted your life to be -- if you just envisioned it long enough, it would come into being.But as hard as I had manifested Astrid Heyman with her hand in mine, her blue eyes gazing into mine, her lips whispering something wild and funny and outrageous in my ear, she had remained totally unaware of my existence. Truly, to even dream of dreaming about Astrid, for a guy like me, in my relatively low position on the social ladder of Cheyenne Mountain High, was idiotic. And with her a senior and me a junior? Forget it. Astrid was just lit up with beauty: shining blonde ringlets, June sky blue eyes, slightly furrowed brow, always biting back a smile, champion diver on the swim team. Olympic level. Hell, Astrid was Olympic level in every possible way.

Crushes thrive in small spaces. Humans must be programmed to respond positively when faced with a small sampling of other humans in, say, caves. You're stuck in a cave with three other people - all mankind, presumably, was hidden away in such tiny groups during the winters until the thaw - and so, in order for the species to thrive, you must be biologically compelled to fuck at least one person in your cave, despite the fact that, when surrounded by a plenitude of Neanderthals at the Neanderthal summer barbecue, none of them struck your fancy. Without the element of choice, and in conjunction with captivity, you find love, or at least you find lust.

Every broken heart has screamed at one time or another: Why can't you see who I truly am?

You care so much for that special person because it feels like that person is part of you.

How can Sophie hate Josh tonight when Friday morning she loved him?' I ask. What I mean is How can I have had such strong feelings for Ethan when now I don't know what I feel aside from overwhelming mortification?