Secret Love.

Dear Boy,

Sometimes. Life has a reason for the people we have thrown into it. When we started class together in EMS, I first noticed your irresistible smile. Every time you smiled my tummy flipped, and my heart tried to leave my case. I was in the need of a pulse check and a defibrillator. After lots of time people watching. (Mostly just observing the way you moved and spoke) I tried to get gutsy. Pretending to be stupid was a good tactic. Except you legitimately knew what you were doing, so I really did just look freaking stupid. So I changed my mind. I tried to be OVERLY smart. Speak in ways I never did. That didn't impress you either. So I tried small talk. Which considering we were both awkward conversationalists, didn't work out so well for either of us. Mostly me. And then I had that aggressive eye infection. So I couldn't wear make up at all. So I looked like crap all the time. Why you talked to me....cause you're a sweetheart. Then I asked you to spring fling. I thought I was so witty asking you resuscitate a dummy....not really. Then we went to spring fling. And you were so smart. Which actually kind of shocked me. Then we watched a movie. And you let me lay on your chest. Which took me the ENTIRE movie to get there. (Inchworm method...LOL) Then we finally started texting. Talking about stupid little things. Planning when to hang out. Never actually happening. Then. After a while. I gave up. I was tired of waiting.

But I still dream. And in this dream. My life works out perfectly. You realize that even though I'm an art freak, and have no friends, I'm actually really cool and irresistible to you. You find me so sexy. We play the entire summer. Having stupid adventures. Late summer nights. The works. I cry about being angry and scared, and you just hold me, and let me cry all over you. Or teach me how to drive a stick shift. Or work on my horrible cursing habit. We'd be together, but more than that, we'd be best friends. Picnics on my roof, or in the dark. Boating at Utah Lake. Letting my crazy curly hair do its thing and not wearing make up, but you still call me beautiful. Having a muse for my artwork. Sweet kisses that serve a sacred purpose, but don't push for anything sick or twisted and nasty. At some point summer would end, and I would go off to school, and you would get ready for your mission. I'd write you if you wanted me to. All secretly praying everything would work out.

I suppose I dream of love. And not the nasty sex crazed teenage kind of love. Although there's definitely a time and a place for that...

Just love me. With my past. My hurts. My hopes. My dreams. No exemptions. And I'll do the same. <3