Monday, August 2, 2010

Dear Crush (Ready For Some Emotions?)

I don't get you. Can I just say that right now? I never have.

Here's a list of facts:
You're a girl.
You're my age.

Everything else? No idea.

But I do know that I'm totally justified with how much I like you. And everyone agrees. It's hard for me to find a girl that I'm okay with. I'm way too picky for my own good. So when I like a girl, there must be something about her. And in this case, there definitely is.

And yet something tells me that I stand a better shot of making drum major in the next two weeks. Because girls like you do not date guys like me. But it has happened before. And that gives me just enough hope to break my heart.

See, I've got this fear that I'll never be right for a girl. Not just any girl, but my girl. And I'm the kind of guy who wants to be able to say "my girl". For some reason, it gives me a more definite sense of purpose. I know I'm here for a reason. Right now, I feel like it deals with religion and philosophy and all that jazz that means nothing. But it's also you. Or whoever else ends up catching my eye.

I feel like Say Anything. Like Ludo. Like Fall Out Boy. Or, oh, God, Maroon 5 (She Will Be Loved).

I'm the guy who doesn't know how to act when he's around her, and all he wants is for that one girl to run up to him and hug him tight.

I'm the guy who just wants to make you happy. Why? Because you're on my mind. A lot. And it sucks. I'm sick of it. I want to be able to focus and not have my mind, once again, drift back to you. It's annoying. It's not annoying because I think of you a lot, but because, like I said, girls like you don't date guys like me. Usually. That small slimmer of hope is the annoying part. I feel like there's some shot that I magically have and that, somehow, it'll all work out in the end.

And now I'm listening to Hum Along. And I realize that if I wrote a song about you, it would sound a lot like this.

I've already said this, but that small slimmer of hope sucks. It's the one thread that keeps me where I am. I'm not here, I'm not there, I'm just right in the middle. That little thread tugs me one way and another thread tugs me another way.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I have absolutely zero chance. In which case, I wouldn't be surprised. It wouldn't make sense, though. But nothing that happens between us is making sense.

I think I'll just end it right here. I could go on forever, or at least for a long time. Like in Hum Along, "Something about you stabs me right through." At least I'm not painting your picture. That's just creepy.

To sum it up: Every girl needs a hero. I want to be yours.