Choices

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You'd think school is for the education, the diploma, the endless possibilities of ways to go for the future. So many ways I could leave here and go to college, go to work, make some sort of money. You'd think that the classes, the textbook learning, the tests, would be enough to keep me busy. Would lead me somewhere where I could be my own person. Would be something that could keep my mind off of him. It didn't start out as a high school crush. As a high school girl, you'd think I'd say that but he was so much more. A friend that needed me. That I needed. The way those dark eyes would stare at me when he thought I wasn't looking. It's not like I was naive to let him in. He was so clever. He took over my mind like some addictive drug. And the whole fact is that even if he did hurt me, I didn't want to let it go. I wanted to hold on. I wanted to hold on like the way his hand tightened around mine, or the time that seemed to go into slow-motion when he held me. The words that he spoke when he opened up spilled onto my textbooks, my papers, everything that I knew I had to do. But I didn't care. That crooked smile just kept appearing in my head instead of a formula. My pencil started to feel as warm as the touch of his cheek. My daydreams would cloud the teacher's explanations. I could still focus, but only for a short time before I'd hear that soft, deep voice speaking... She was out of his life, wasn't she? He wanted to be mine. No one had ever told me not to let him in. I heard people say how we seemed so good together. Did they ever say that they saw her with him again? Did anyone let me know that that crooked smile was being directed towards her once more? Did they see the curves of her hips being covered by his hands? Why didn't anyone say anything?! I didn't know why those dark eyes would turn away every time I approached. I couldn't fathom the reason why he let go so quickly when I tried to hold him. Why, oh why was the friend that needed me, that I let in, suddenly pulling out of my daydreams? Why was he denying the fact that he ever cared for me. Why did my pencil suddenly feel cold? Why was her hand suddenly being tightened in his? Why was the textbook only filled with explanations and equations that I had almost forgotten? You'd think that when I'd speak to him, he wouldn't turn away. You'd think that just once, I wouldn't be left in the dark. So many ways I could've avoided this. So many choices, why did I have to pick him? Why couldn't I have just ignored his words and let my mind envelope an equation? Why do I have to look at him everyday and the only thought crossing my mind is: Why couldn't I have been his choice?

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