As I sat there in english class, I stared at the girl
next to me. She was my so called
'best friend'.
I stared at her long, silky hair, and wished she was mine.
But she didn't notice me like that, and I
knew it. After class, she walked up to me and asked me
for the notes she had missed the day before.
I handed them to her. She said 'thanks' and gave
me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I
want her to know that I dont want to be just friends,
I love her but I'm just too shy, and I dont know why.
11th grade, The phone rang. On the other end, it
was her. She was in tears, mumbling on and on
about how her love had broke her heart. She
asked me to come over because she didn't want
to be alone, so I did. As I sat next to her on
the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes, wishing she was
mine. After 2 hours, one Drew Barrymore movie,
and three bags of chips, she decided to go to
sleep. She looked at me, said 'thanks' and gave
me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I
want her to know that I don't want to be just friends,
I love her but I'm just too shy, and I dont know why.
Senior year, The day before prom she walked to
my locker. "My date is sick" she said, has not
gonna go" well, I didn't have a date, and in 7th
grade, we made a promise that if neither of us
had dates, we would go together-just as 'bestfriends'.
So we did. Prom night, after everything was
over, I was standing at her front door step. I stared at
her as she smiled at me and stared at me with her
crystal eyes. I want her to be mine, but she
doesn't think of me like that, and I know it. Then she
said "I had the best time, thanks!" and gave me a
kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know
that I dont want to be just friends, I love her
but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.
A day passed, then a week, then a month. Before
I could blink, it was graduation day. I watched as
her perfect body floated like an angel up on
stage to get her diploma. I wanted her to be mine- but
she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it.
Before everyone went home, she came to me in her
smock and hat, and cried as i hugged her. Then
she lifted her head from my shoulder and said-
'you're my best friend, thanks' and gave me a
kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to
know that I dont want to be just friends, I love her
but I'm just too shy, and don't know why.
Now I sit in the pews of the church. That girl
is getting married. That girl is getting married now.
I watched her say 'i do' and drive off to her new
life, married to another man. I wanted her to be mine,
but she didn't see me like that, and I knew it.
But before she drove away, she came to me and
said 'you came!'. She said 'thanks' and kissed
me on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to
know that I dont want to be just friends, I love her
but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.
Years passed, I looked down at the coffin of a
girl who used to be my 'best friend'. At the service,
they read a diary entry she had wrote in her
high school years. This is what it read:
"...I stare at him wishing he was mine; but he
doesn't notice me like that, and I know it. I
want to tell him, I want him to know that I don't want
to be just friends, I love him but I'm just too shy,
and I don't know why. I wish he would tell me he loved me!...
'I wish I did too...' I thought to myself, and i cried.
