It's summertime again. Like always, my one goal is to catch his eye. And, like always, he is walking around the deck and talking to HER. Even though I know they are not together, I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy and anger. How come it is so easy for HER to talk to guys. Yes, I know she is very pretty and really fast, but why can't it ever be me? I am so outgoing with my friends, but when it comes to making the fist move with the guy I have been secretly crushing on for the past three or four years, I become petrified with fear of rejection and humiliation. Crushes on other guys come and go, but there is something about this guy that makes my heart skip a beat. I dream of one day having the courage to tell him how I feel, but I hopelessly wish that one day, he will make a move.

I check his facebook page a couple times a week, each time dreading that his relationship status has gone from single to in a relationship. I think about him often. Every time his name comes up in a question in Spanish class, I get very excited and encircle his name with what seems like millions of hearts, begging to be filled with his love.

The funniest thing about my extremely long term crush is I don't actually know that much about him. True, I know what middle school he went to and what high school he currently attends. I know what winter sport he participates in, swimming of course. I know his parents from swim team and I can recognize his siblings. Sure, we talk on facebook, but he is rarely online and even when he is on, we only talk for short periods of time lasting only a mere ten to twenty minutes, and when I get lucky, a full half an hour.

Part of me wishes that I would forget about him and move on, but another part tells me to hold on because there is always a chance that this summer is the one. The one that the sun will hit me in just the right spot. The one that the wind will blow my hair in just the right way. The one that I will find the perfect banquet outfit that will have his eyes glued to me all night. The summer that maybe, just maybe, all of my dreams will come true. But yet another part of me, the more logical one, tells me that my brain and my heart and accustomed to liking him a little bit too much, that trying to move on or ignoring my feelings at this point in my life would be nearly impossible.

If I didn't have to see him everyday of the summer, I may be a little bit more open to just admitting my feelings for him. But, due to the fact that I have to face him everyday, I couldn't deal with the constant humiliation of rejection every time I see him.

Every time my eyes catch his, I tell myself that he had been looking over at me for a while, just waiting and hoping that I would glance over in his direction, but I know that I am just kidding myself.

His mother told mine that she thought I am beautiful and musically talented, and when my mother passed this compliment onto me, I secretly hoped that these feelings were genetic and hereditary. As that summer came to a close, I couldn't help but feel devastated that even after his mother's promising compliment, he still hadn't given any indication that he cared for me as I did him.

It's not fair, I think to myself. Many of my friends live in big neighborhoods and know a lot of boys from there. Others know boys from church and even their country club. And still more meet guys at dances. Me? Practically the only guys I know are from my pool, and I have known them all for about 8 years, and only actually talked to them for the past two years. Am I not attractive? Do guys hate my smile and my hair and my skin as much as I do? Do they hate my clothes? What I wouldn't give to be able to see inside his brain and to see what he actually thinks of me. That would be a promising and hopefully flawless plan. But alas, no such technology exists. What about me makes me so damn unapproachable? Am I some sort of monster that repels all men?

I only wish I had another month or two to plan how to deal with the emotional roller coaster known as summer. I only hope that I will make it through another summer without making a complete fool of myself. Three months of seeing his smiling face. His immaculate bone structure. His chiseled stomach. His gleaming eyes. His ivory complexion. His entire being. If only he knew that I write about him at midnight. That he is the reason that most of the cover of my Physics workbook is covered in sharpie hearts. That I could write a whole album of songs just dedicated to him. That I don't go a day without thinking about him. That whenever I think about my future, he is always the man standing with me, holding me tight in his loving embrace. That all of my friends know his name. That there is a picture of him in my locker with hearts around it. That, against my better judgment, I am falling helplessly, hopelessly, unconditionally and seemingly irrevocably in love with him. But would that change a thing? Probably not...