She was beautiful. Or, is, I guess. She’s not dead. Still very much alive. Still gorgeous in that wow-you-don’t-even-need-make-up-to-look-flawless way. Yeah, one of those types. And nice, too. Girl’s a damn angel.

I hated it.

I didn’t realize had a girlfriend for the first month of my crushing. To me, he was just the cute, bizarrely brilliant kid in my class. I found myself looking forward to his wit and perspective. I counted myself lucky if I happened to be the one to ping pong back and forth, bantering with him about pop culture or something we’d just heard in the news. I know people are supposed to be motivated by education or passion, but I got up knowing I’d see him. He encouraged me to grow.

The actual crush happened slowly.

It’s so weird, you meet someone and you don’t even really look at them twice. And then, over time, something happens and this person becomes a real Person, you know?

Someone with ideas that inspire you. Someone who makes you killer music playlists and you’re not easily impressed.

Without even realizing what was going on, I woke up one day and thought, “Oh shit, I’m INTO this dude.”

I was smitten, googly-eyed, straight up T-Pain sprung.

But he had, uhh, has, a girlfriend. And that meant nothing could ever happen. Not while he was in love with her and she was in love with me. Spoiler: they’re still happy and grossly cute.

Which meant any fantasy I had was always going to stay that: a fantasy.

I knew that. I did.

The heart doesn’t always listen to the brain.

No matter how hard you plead. No matter how logical you try to be. The heart keeps on hoping, clinging on to whatever stupid thing he did. The heart interprets signals that aren’t there.

The only solace was knowing how happy he was, how happy she made him.

If it wasn’t going to be me, at least it was her.

At least it was her.