He's in my class

& I crush on him. I shouldn't be. He has a girlfriend. He talks about her all the time. So I ensure to watch myself around him. It's not a heavy crush. It could be, but I keep myself check. I know too well the pain cause by cheating. I will not allow myself to become the other woman. No matter how much he means to me. Even if it meant that it was the person I wanted the most.

I will not be her. I will not taint a relationship. I will not tantalize.

Maybe.

Years. It's been a long while since I saw him. Everyone indulges me in my fantasy of him. I can't help but smile, feel giddy, beam, really just glow at the thought of him. My friends joke and laugh because he's such a dork, that it's ridiculously funny, and to me ridiculously endearing. I've always felt that way about him, ever since I knew of him. Even before I fell hard for my ex, even when I was with him. I never gave up hope for my daydream. My ex knew this. And at first, when our relationship was getting serious, my ex could tell that I love the daydream more than him. Maybe that's why he's an ex? Maybe he felt that he could never live up to that fantasy. I didn't expect him to. I found this postsecrets online. Three of them, at separate times, and each time I saw them. I broke down. I was never the type to fully sob your heart out dramatics, always my cries were silent, a souvenir of the shy quiet girl I was.
The first one made me get angry and just broke my heart, knowing that there was someone else out there who felt just like I did.
"Why didn't he fight for me? I wanted him to fight for me. He was supposed to fight for me." In my mind I saw it as choosing me over her. He was supposed to chose me. A part of me will always love him. He was my first serious love, a part of me will always take him back. The next secret is "I cheated on my husband, only so he would let go." This is true, because I would have never let him go. Any dumping would have not been by me. He left me. He dump me. He said "It's over." He hurt me, brought me down to a new low, especially so soon after my grandma's passing, and my dog's passing. Some days and nights, despite the cheery smile I put up, all I could do was stare at his number on my phone. Some nights only get so dark. The other secret which made me heal is "Letting go of the woman I love, in hopes she will be happier with someone else is the worst, best, hardest thing I ever done." I knew him. I knew him better than anything, even after he left me for her, I still knew him. Told him so in a text, to stop hiding behind her, that to stop putting up the front, that I knew he was falling to pieces too, just hiding out behind his stone face. I called him out to his emotions in that text and he called me back. He asked me how did I know that it was a cover, a front. Like I said, I knew him. You never stop knowing a person, especially after that type of relationship. It still hurts me sometimes. I still want him to come home to me. Still want to feel his arms around me, singing to me, showing me how childish he could be in his goofy singing, he let his guard down with me. We thought we were forever. He let me go.

And after everything all I had to hold me, to believe in, when I had no hope, no faith, not even in myself, not even in my librarian, what did I have? A picture.
A picture of my daydream. The only picture we took together. I would stare at it, and fall asleep, never failing to make me feel at least okay and a bit peaceful thinking on those times. My friends call my daydream an emotional dependence, my security blanket. I've tried so many times to forget my daydream. Years. Almost did when I was in love with my ex.

I know no one will believe me if I say so now. I think I wrote it somewhere in my old journals. I was a freshman. 14 years old and writing my first novel, a young adult fantasy, that surprise, surprise, I finished when I was 15/16. But while I was writing it, more than any of the dozens of crushes I had at school. I felt happy, believing in this idea that there was a guy out there for me. A guy just like me, who love to read, and who at that very moment, was writing his novel too. Someone just as lost as I am in books, writings, mangas, movies, music. Someone who knows what it's like not to be able to relate to other people. I love him. Had too much heart, too much love, for this imaginary soulmate of mine. Funny how even though, I love the blond, blue eyes, I wanted my soulmate to have brown eyes just like mine, so I would know that he didn't think mine were ugly, common, just because their brown because he would have them too and know the beauty that can be found in the everyday. In a everyday person like me. I love him. I didn't know him. Didn't really care, as long as he was mine.
A year later is when I first heard of my daydream. I didn't know he was only a few years older than me. I just heard it was a good book. I was in Wal-Mart when I saw it on the shelves and pick it up to read the synopsis. When I turn to the author flap and saw him, I didn't drop the book, but I don't know how long I stared at his photo, thinking, he has brown eyes too. Everything that came after that; the obsessions, the letters, the photo, it just reaffirms my daydream. I love him, and it's stupid for me feeling so, real stupid. I love him. I Love the idea of him, and I won't give up hope, not till I get my chance, a real chance.

So maybe now this prayer,
the last one of its kind.
Won't you please come get your baby?
Maybe.