Third
It's not that I hate him or love him or think about him before I sleep. But for some reason I feel a connection to him. I can't ignore it and it's driving me crazy. I sit here and watch him flirt with her and I feel jealous but if he talks to me, I'm frightened. I'm not deserving of his attention and yet I convince myself he has no meaning to me.
He watching me. Making sure he knows who I am and how I'll react to him. I love him. Sort of. That just kind of slipped from my mind. I know I don't, I just like the fact that he's noticing me. Even though it makes my feel awkward.
I've been working on being less absorbed lately. I need to start thinking about other people as well. But can't help that I put precedence on myself over them. I'm not that important to anyone else. And I'm no good at putting myself in other peoples' minds
I remember one time when I was eight I joined a youth group to get over my shyness. Instead I ended up crying in the girls' washroom every time we had to work in partners and no one wanted to work with me. I, being so foolishly self contained, thought I was the only one. I wasn't. One day on my way to the washroom I was stopped by a boy lying straight across the hallway. Trying to step over him, he grabbed my ankle. Angrily I kicked the foot to shake him loose before wondering why he had done it. He asked me why I was crying. I called him the worst name I could think of and kicked again. He said he hoped I felt better and let go.
I felt terrible after that. Truth being, I had recognized him, he was quiet but always had a friend to partner with. His partner hadn't come that day. I was too envious of his fortune to think of why he was talking to me. Maybe he wanted a friend. I'll never know. I saw him two times after that. Once more at the youth group, he smiled at me slightly but it was obviously forced. To this day my feet have never again set themselves within the community center. I saw him again in a mall a year later. Our mother's were in the same line in the lingerie department. We both tried to pretend we didn't recognize each other.
I don't know what he was thinking that day either. Just the same I haven't a clue why Christoph is still staring at me. He's making me sweat and shiver with tense chills. I can still hear Shannon, washing away. Not a care in the world. I wish I could be like her. If I can't figure out what people are thinking, I wish I could just not care.