crush
she’s still here, standing before me at the entrance to the annex building. it’s the first day of the semester and it is sunny and cool and beautiful and she is sunny and cool and beautiful, and my crush is of a magnitude that only 15-year-old boys are capable of. it has burst through my chest and ballooned into an independent sovereign planet. it is no longer my crush— i am its person, a mere inhabitant of it.
she has come to ask where the so-called east building is.
i am entranced. floating. there is no gravity in the crush and my toes can’t quite reach the ground. my heart sings to her. stars are crashing and symphonies are soaring and i just want to touch her face and smell her hair and get drunk on her voice and kiss her lips and fly away with her.
and it slowly dawns on me that i am awake, and i am surprised to notice that i am holding her hand and i do not know why and i do not know how it got there.
i do not know what has just happened or how long i’ve been gone. seconds? minutes? epochs? i have no idea whether my face has continued talking or merely stared, slackjawed, while i was off dancing and cartwheeling and rocketing across the universe with her.
and she has no idea why i’m so weird.
3 years ago • Notes