I am weak, and I choose to take the easy way out. Realizing and accepting feelings means that I have to do something about them.
I will not like her.
Time is running out, anyways. It's too late to start now. But of course, there's nothing to start.
Because I choose to not like her.
In my little world, where I feel so lost and alone, so desperate and hopeless, she saw me. When everyone else gave me dirty looks and whispered...
She called me beautiful.