People

There was a boy in my school. He was the boy from the bus, the boy from the church, the boy from the band, the boy from the school. He did not have a face, did not have a name. He didn't have pain or joy, he didn't have thoughts or friends. To me, at least, he was just the boy.

There is a friend in my school. He is the friend who brings smiles, the friend who brings books, the friend who is quirky. He has an average face, and an average name. He has plenty of pain, and could use some more joy. He has beautiful thoughts and has me as a friend. To me, at least, he is amazing.

No, I don't love him. I don't "like like" him, either. But I've fallen in love with his thoughts, and with his contemplation. I love him for his appreciation of the optimists, and his striving to be a little more like them. I love him for being human, and I love him in the way that I love everyone that I know.

There was a girl in my school. I saw her once, at an audition. She had a small waist and long legs. She danced, if I remember correctly. Her voice slid a bit much for my taste, was too hoarse, and too loud. But something about it pierced me all the way through and let me succumb to it completely. It was high- very. Her pointed toes tapped quickly and elegantly. I wondered if maybe I could ask for a name, and turned away. She was my superior, obviously.

There is a girl in my school.  I see her almost every day, and think of her on the others. She has a big heart and a short temper. She dances, and I dance with her. When her voice breaks, mine fills in the cracks. Our harmonies pierce me all the way through and I succumb to the music completely. Her standards are high- very. She is quick and elegant. I know her name like I know my own and I turn to her for everything. She and I are equals, and we complete each other.

No, I'm not using her. I don't fake anything. I love her more than myself, at times. Her thoughts and words are what I want mine to be. She is the happiest and brightest person I've met, but she appreciates my darker days. I love her for being human, and I love her in the way that I love everyone I know.

It's hard, when you get to know somebody, to hate them. It's impossible to hate a smile you see so often. Love and knowledge are one and the same. Forgiveness is, frankly, the coolest.

I don't think I need to give names. If they read this, that's great. If they don't, well, they know how I feel about them already.