| But He'll Never Be Mine By Thagen |
| From the moment I met him I knew that there was something different about him. His good looks had nothing to do with his appeal; it was the fact that he befriended me. My world was small; I let no one in and so stayed locked inside myself. Life was abysmal; the teasing, the taunting, the looks that said; you’re nothing Myrtle. And you know something, I was nothing. I was myself which was as good as nothing. Then again, he saw something that they didn’t. He was friends with me. But he was never going to be mine. Not in the way I wanted. It started so innocently, “I’ll be your partner in potions Myrtle.” “Here, you can sit next to me Myrtle.” Gradually we stopped just sitting together. We talked, we laughed, and he listened to me. But all the while, he was looking through me. He didn’t see what they saw. I used to feel invisible around others, like they didn’t notice me but with him I felt transparent. He looked and saw something else; he could penetrate my soul and still want to be near me. He was the stuff dreams are made of. But he’ll never be mine. Then the rumours started. “Ooo, Myrtle’s got a boyfriend.” “Why would anyone want to go out with her?” “Myrtle and someone sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” I tried to defend myself; “He’s just my friend, that’s all. Can’t I be friends with a boy?” I secretly wished it could be more but I contented myself knowing I’d rather be friends with him than nothing at all. Then one day, everything changed. The next year Hogwarts was to host a ball, all fancy, the Great Hall decked out in its finest glory. I didn’t want to go, until late one Sunday afternoon he came to me and said “Myrtle, will you come to the ball with me?” I stammered out a yes before I ran into the girl’s bathroom. Thoughts raced through my head as I stood there surrounded by the cubicle. I rested my head against the tiles of the wall and convinced myself; he’ll never be mine. We’re just friends but it’ll be nice to go with him and maybe he’ll see something different in me. Maybe he’ll be able to love me. Just maybe. It could have been beautiful, if I didn’t have to die. If Olive Hornby hadn’t said, “Myrtle I don’t know what he sees in you. All I can see is glasses,” I wouldn’t be dead. But he never came to my funeral. He never told my dead body how he felt, so he mustn’t have loved me. Maybe I’m just not the sort of girl someone can love. So he’ll never be mine. How I felt didn’t matter because he didn’t want me. He didn’t. |