And I Want Her, Need Her

Chapter 2.


He had brown hair, I think, maybe it was blonde at that time. and I'm pretty sure it was curly (at that time.) He had golden brown eyes and I chased him around the playground like a starfish. I thought I loved him. Once, during clean up time, I drew a picture of us as stick figures, on opposite sides of the paper, with a line connecting our lips touching.
I was four.
He's basically my brother now.

As for the next boy I had a crush on, he was tall. And, he had a bowl cut. His hair was sandy blonde and one time we were having a class party and he was telling me a story about a kid who could only say no. A man told the kid, "If you don't stop saying no, I will kill you!" And the kid said, "No! No! No!" I laughed and moved my desk around and loved his name.
I was seven.

I came to a new school. In that school I met a boy. He was around my height, and had brown, shaggy hair, and one day during Orchestra he came in late. He wore Mavs jerseys and sock hats and I thought he was beautiful. He played the bass. One time, on the bus ride home, I told him that I thought his Gameboy DS was ugly, and he retorted, "Your face is ugly!" I hid my tears by turning back into my seat. I cried about it a few week later.
I was nine.

And this angel visited me in the fifth grade. He was tall, he had blonde, curly, wavy hair, and he had baby blue eyes. He loved the Beatles, I think, and just about every single girl in my grade wanted his dick. He ended up going out with both of my best friends, and he almost went out with me. Almost. One time, I sent him a note in science. It said, "Do you still like me?" He never replied, and he actually left it on the desk. My science teacher, who happened to be a total bitch, took the note and showed it to my parents.
I was ten.

On the last day of school in fifth grade, me and the boy I liked in the fourth grade shared a headphone. We watched Spiderman. I liked him all through that summer, and we talked all summer. He then asked me out. We went out for two or three months, and then he broke up with me. A month later, he asked me out again. We were together for a year. He was my first kiss. It happened on my birthday. The next summer, I broke up with him.
I was twelve.

The two boys I broke up with him for are two completely different stories. The one I liked more, with the blonde, shaggy hair, and the blue eyes, and his height and converse and taste in music, did NOT like me back, but liked my best friend. The other became the love of my life. He lived in Georgia, so we had this whole, oh-my-god-I-love-you-but-can't-go-out-with-you thing going on. I loved him more than I thought I'd ever love anyone. He was half-Mexican, he had ADHD and ADD, and played the guitar. He was a jackass to everyone but me. And then he moved back to Dallas. In that time, I went out with him for four months. And then, he broke up with me.
I was thirteen.

The blonde, shaggy haired boy with the blue eyes stopped being my best friend. Georgia boy broke up with me. And my other best friend stopped talking to me, and my grandpa died.
But I don't like to talk about that.

The next boyfriend I had was younger than me. He had glasses and blue eyes and brown curly hair and he played hockey. He listened to the best music and we only went out for three days, but I got to make out with him twice. To this day we are still awesome friends. We went out in the last few days of my eighth grade year.

Then I finally let everyone know I liked girls.

And she came along. I can't say much, except for the fact that I really liked her. She was perfect and she had brown eyes and long brown hair that I'm pretty sure was just styled to stay in her eyes. She was my height. And she talked real quiet, like you had to really listen to hear what she had to say. So you could care. And it didn't happen. And I was hung up over it for a while. I made fun of her a lot because I liked everything about her so much. And it didn't happen.
I was fourteen.

And I'm still fourteen.
And I met this girl, who's really too tall for her own good. And smells amazing. And can play pretty much every instrument on the planet, and she has a beautiful voice. And she's in a band. And she has these awkward long skinny fingers and when I don't pay attention to her it's because I'm thinking about how I want to kiss every one of them. And for sure, she's one of the only people I've ever wanted to make the happiest girl in the world. And I write her songs and make her gifts. And we're together because that's what awesome people do. She's jamaican. And I could honestly list off every fact I could, except I don't think you'd care.

The truth is, I care.

I care.