For 8 months, you were my light when there was darkness. You were my gleam of hope whenever I felt down. But did you even know my name? Did I even know yours? Do you even know mine yet?

All of a sudden, everything changed so quickly. You were put in my homeroom, and I was faced with sitting there in an ever-so-self-concious manner for nearly 7 hours a day. I was faced with seeing your face everyday and feeling the blood rush to my head.

And yet, as miserable as it may all sound - well, it was bliss. Pure bliss. Those first 2 months of school were wonderful. The days when you glanced me in the eye, or talked to me - or simply managed a way to make me melt one more time in a day.

And then, before I could speak, you found out. You found out what I thought of you, and it was from then on that you decided I couldn't stay that way. That my opinion of you would have to change. You decided that maybe my life could become a living hell just because of you.

So there you have it. That's what I think of you in a nutshell. But what's worse, is the way you treated me after you found out. But what I still think of you. I don't know what to think, actually. But maybe I DO still like you. Even if everyone thinks I don't.