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The First Time I Saw You

The first time I saw you, you were a kid.

We were six.

Neither of us knew what our futures would hold.

Here we are.

Fifteen years later, we are meeting for the first time.

We ended up having a class together.

College can be surprising.

I noticed that you became more confident when I talked to you.

I often catch you watching me.

Why is that?

I know your friends would hate me.

Even though I overthink everything, I hope for something to happen.

I won’t ever forget the fact that we could never be friends.


The first time I saw you we were equals.

Then you grew up to be popular.

I grew up to become something you wish you were.

I was free to do anything and everything, because I didn’t care about what people thought.

Now when I see you, I’m reminded of everything.

That we aren’t equals.

That we will never be more than people who grew up together.

We can’t be friends, even though we both wish things were different.

The first time I saw you, you ran up to me in the fourth grade.

I was the tallest girl in our class, and you measured yourself to me.

You were happy that you were taller than me.

We slowly became friends.

Distaste turned into a unique friendship.

We could rely on each other.

I don’t know why you thought I was an amazing person.

You ended up at a different middle school.

We still talked.

Then I texted you that I wanted to more than friends.

I understand why you took so long to respond.

I was scared.

I pretended it was a joke.

It was a dare from my friend.

I was embarrassed and worried you would never talk to me.

We were kids, and you said some things

You were hurt.

Our friendship ended.

I know it's all my fault.

Years later we saw each other.

You sat across the room and refused to talk to me.

We were about to graduate high school, yet you still treated me like a child.

I never got the chance to apologize.

The first time I saw you, I was staring at the back of your head.

You sat in front of me.

It was in middle school, and all embarrassing stories start with that phrase.

We had a back-and-forth that is hard to explain.

I didn’t like you.

You would pick on me.

You would close books while I was reading them.

You'd throw things at me.

One time, we got yelled at for talking to each other in class.

Someone told me you liked me.

To be honest, you grew on me.

We would never admit it to each other, but we had something.

Didn’t we?