The day I had a crush on you, my life fell apart.
I know I shouldn't have fallen for you. Look at you: 3 years older, dark haired, tall and strong, sitting there at the bleachers in every single one of my basketball games. I had casted one look over to you. One look. You were staring right back at me. Then the dream came back.
We had kissed. In the dream, you had kissed me, and I had kissed you back. I knew it was wrong. The whole dream felt wrong. But maybe it was what I wanted. Maybe it was love. In the dream, I couldn't stop. You couldn't, I couldn't.
But looking into those dark brown eyes from across the basketball court, I knew I had spun myself into an inescapable web of twisted feelings. You didn't smile, and neither did I. My coach called my name, saying I was staying on court for the third quarter in a row, and so we broke the eye contact.
For the rest of the game, I played to my best. I would never admit it, but I really needed to impress you. After all, why would you notice a not-so-popular, not-so-pretty 15 year old when you have a bunch of curvy, beautiful 18 year olds in your grade?
I knew my chances were hopeless, and I told myself that everyday, but I had already fallen.
And I couldn't get back up.