This isn't a novel... so there is no need to write too much...

I Can’t Seem to Think
It’s as if someone had poured a “goo” into my hand, the minute I saw that person. Someone I deeply admired, even liked. What was this? How did this “goo” make me feel? It was as if a divine being tampered with my mind, my soul, my desire. An ego or a weird pit in my stomach that I couldn’t seem to lift, or take away. But it felt nice, nevertheless, the feeling of want. The feeling of being with that person, talking to them, and the final result of making them yours. I can’t lie, I admit I truly like this feeling. But no matter how much or how I tried to explain it myself, I could never find the answer. It was so stressful to me, as something I couldn’t control was beyond me. The answer I looked for was never found.
So I decided to stop looking.
Maybe if I stopped, the pain would go, or even run away from me.
But it kept nagging, it stuck, like that goo that was ever so unstable.
I hated it.
I hated it.
I hated every inch of it.
But I loved it.
I loved it so much it seemed to grow blossoms and butterflies in my lungs in my stomach. I could barely breathe, but I could laugh so beautifully, as the butterflies rose again. It was truly a graceful feeling that I utterly hated, and loved at the same time. This feeling was ever so painful, as if there were a pit in my stomach, growing. No matter how beautifully I could laugh, or how powerful I am potentially, this paradise sprouted melancholy. There became no position for me to stop it, as repeated attempts could never cease this pain.
Many months passed with this feeling, still persistent. A tree, sticking out of my lungs, has grown, breeding feelings and seasons into my heart. There came warm summers and cold winters, to altering colors in the fall and spring. Butterflies and other seeds populated increasingly in my chest, making it difficult to even open my mouth, even around someone like him. I thought that maybe if he loved me, would this pain go away? Would a kiss, a simple way of words, or even a feeling cure this sickness I possibly have, that is captivating me? I wonder what could save me from this pain that relentlessly confuses me and traps me within its boundaries to the point when someone tries to pull me out of it, it forces me back inside, and it hurts that person who,
…had tried desperately to save me.
It’s almost the end of high school, as I can feel the spring air against my face with droplets of water falling from time to time. I try to laugh to get rid of the pain, but as always it doesn’t work. I had come to the epiphany that this pain is simply just love. And all of these feelings may not blossom in trees, but thorns or insects. I found this out since I could see other people with this condition. I watched in sunny hazes and rainy hues as trees blossomed and died, watching lovelorn students confess. I had become scared of asking since the pain had lasted so long that I've become used to it anyway. I stood in front of a tree and smiling sadly, I sighed at my cowardice. However, though, I turn around, seeing him…
Turn towards me
As petals were falling
Out of his mouth.

This is supposed to be a short story but the novel option was the only one logically possible.