Him

     I look at him for most of the hour-long car ride. He doesn't notice. Of course he doesn't notice. He isn't like me. He isn't hopelessly in love. The only difference is that if he loved me, I'd be so happy. I'd shout from the rooftops that my love, loved me. I'd be the happiest man in the world.

The difference is that he would be disgusted if he knew. He'd hate me. It'd ruin everything. As much as it hurts to see him so often and know he'll never love me, it would hurt so much more if we couldn't even be friends, especially if he only ever looked at me as if I was some gum stuck to his shoe. I know that's how he'd look at me.

I try to think happy thoughts, to pay attention to my music, but it's hopeless. As always, he's the only thing on my mind. Why does he have to be so imperfectly perfect? Why do I constantly find myself thinking of how good we would be together and how cute we would be? Why am I not good enough? Why am I never good enough?

If only he wasn't so great, or I wasn't so stupid. I've always known he was straight, so why'd I let myself get so attached? Why'd I trick myself into thinking he might someday love me like I love him? Why do I spend all those nights, lying awake at half past three, imagining a perfect future with him, only to tear them all down in the morning? Why do I do that to myself?

Hope. I build myself up and rip myself apart regularly, because I have hope. Because I can't make myself completely give up, because I'm in love with him. I'm fully, utterly, irreparably, insanely head over heels in love with him. Of all the people I could've gotten on with, could've known, could've fallen in love with, it has to be him. Why him?

Why not someone else? Why not someone I could have a small chance with? Why would my traitorous heart make me go through this? Why does it have to be him?

Maybe they're right. Maybe god hates me because I'm an abomination. Maybe he is making me go through this to punish me for being born this way. It isn't fair though. None of this is fair.

Tonnes of people don't have to feel this. They get happy endings and wonderful wedding celebration extravaganzas. **The only happy ending I'll ever get is finally slicing deep enough into my wrists to die.** I'll finally see everything go black and be at peace. Or eternal torture. Whatever happens, it can't be worse than what I feel every single day.

I'm brought out of my peaceful thoughts of death by him saying my name, letting me know we're here. He asks what I was thinking, why I was so lost in thought. I shrug and say that I was just off in my own world, quickly pasting a fake smile onto my face to hide the darkness in my eyes. I follow him out of the car, once again wishing I could hold his hand or dance with him, just one time before I die.