It was all just an act. One big cover up. I wasn't as in love with the female species as I put off. I just didn't want to be made fun of for "swinging both ways," so I always hung out with the girls and made sure to oggle at them when they were wearing revealing outfits, whether or not I really meant it. High school is a cruel place for a person like me.

But what's more cruel than high school? Love. Love is a cruel, cruel thing. It almost never turns out the way you want it to. Well, at least not for me, anyway. In all honesty, nothing feels like it goes my way anymore.

When I want to look up from my homework during study hall and see teal eyes staring back at me, all I see is a head of silver hair bent over English homework from the night before, rushing to finish it before it's marked late.

When I want to reach out and grab his firm, yet gentle hand, I can't without accidentally grabbing hers too. They hold hands too much.

When I want him to spend the night at my house so we can be alone, he's already got plans with her. Do you know how many times he's been able to come over to my house in the past year? Two. Two lousy times. But I guess that's the price you pay for being slow to the game.

When I want to hear him call my name, beg for more, moan for my love, all I hear is the contented sound he makes when she's done something right. I just wish for once I could be the one praising him for pleasing me.

When I want to close my eyes and imagine him writhing underneath me, a deep blush staining his cheeks, all I imagine is him holding her close and telling her he loves her. It would make me happy if I could at least imagine him smiling at me.

When I want to feel his muscular arms wrap endearingly around my neck and hold me close, all I feel is alone. I really don't know how I can elaborate on that. Loneliness can only be described as itself.

When I want to taste his delicious cooking, all I taste is the salt of tears on my tongue. It's not much to complain about, but tears taste ten times more bitter when you're crying them over someone you lust to touch than when you're not.

And when I want him to look me straight in the eye and tell me he loves me, the only words that come out of his mouth are, "I'll see you tomorrow, Juta."