I had done everything I could think of to make him notice me. Throughout the years I’d coloured my hair in every possible colour, worn everything from black Goth to neon coloured girl-pants, had pierced every possible body part, ignored him, and openly adored him.
He told me time and time again that he was straight and I’d come to terms with the fact that he never would be mine. So I took my guitar, played it hidden away in my world. Letting the days become years. When I looked up he was there. Waiting for me to see him.