Category : Blogs

Sub Category : LifeStyle

Last Year.
Me and my crush were good Friends.
I called him blockhead just so he wouldn't imagine that someone like me liked him.
He's born for sports, my cerebellum is slow.
He's of a different race than me; and our races are worlds apart.
He's already in a modelling business, my family faces financial problems sometimes.
He doesn't know.
He won't know.

Next year there won't be a last year. Next year we'll all go to other schools. This year is my last chance. This year I want to know what he thinks.

Last year there were rumours.
We went on a learning journey together.
A girl asked what he thought about me.
Some said he blushed.
Others said he told them he liked me.
But I know that's not true.
He likes my best friend.
And his best friend likes my best friend.

Next year there won't be a last year. Next year we'll not be kids any longer. Next year we turn 13, more responsibilities, a different life.

I want an art school.
He wants a sports school.
I do literary.
He does track.

Next year there won't be a last year. Next year I won't see him anymore. 

Next year we say goodbye.