Notice, I whisper to myself in English class. Then he walks in, his blonde hair immediately catches my eyes and his swooping bangs, and his deep, rich blue eyes fill me with curiosity. It would shock anyone to know that I liked him. Of all people but I did. It was magical, almost instantaneous. One minute I can stand to see his face, next minute I’m falling in love with it. I wanted him, I wanted him to be with me, forever. Every minute of the day he was on my mind. I couldn’t focus at all because he was in my dreams, walking with me and talking with me. He sits down two chairs from me, and I see him out of the corner of my eye with his cute red plaid button down shirt. I can feel him looking at me, so I try to do something cute, anything but what I’m doing now, picking at my fingers like heck. After a few minutes, I take a quick peek at him, only to find that his eyes are fixed on Dorinda. Gorgeous, beautiful, popular, jaw-dropping, Dorinda. Why do the pretty ones that get all the attention, even if they may be as mean as Dorinda? She, Dorinda, is surrounded by a group of giggling girls staring at their phones, she’s twirling a piece of golden brown hair at the end of a nail polished finger. Suddenly her razor sharp eyes zaps at me, her new victim, “hey”, she says grabbing the whole room's attention, “nice pants” she continues staring at my legs. There are some shuffling and some muffled giggles, but I don't know if I should take it as a compliment. Then I look around the room to notice that there is no one here wearing Billabong Stretchy Pants. I sigh, definitely not a new fashion trend; but I guess I’m the only one who had to sacrifice three lunches just to get into these pants. During the class, they show a bee documentary while I make side looks at him. I know this has to be real, but I know it can't. I know he’s changed me but I can't remember who I am. I can picture every moment with him in our future, but then again, I’m not good enough, pretty enough, social enough, happy enough, smart enough, cool enough, perfect enough. The real realization hits me like a stone to my chest, and I wait to the end of class to rush to the bathroom. For the first time in my fifteen years, I’m crying over a boy, a boy that could never be mine no matter how hard I tried, a boy that would never notice me or appreciate me. I don’t know what love at first sight is, but every time he was around, my blood was pounding in my veins. He changed me, and looking back I don't think it was in a good way. Maybe it could be real, maybe it was all a lie.  Maybe I was wrong, maybe this was a misunderstanding. Maybe…..but in my tears, I knew it couldn't be.