If you haven't guessed by now...

This is a love letter

I don't know why I'm quite doing this. It's just things aren't good at home right now and seeing you every day at school quickly changes what I thought was inevitable tears and pain into something good.

I know the simple word 'good' isn't something extravagant like tremendous, exceptional, marvelous, phenomenal, sensational, and let's both pretend that I haven't searched those words on google...

Good is the word I described to what you make me feel because it's the simple adjective that I have never once described myself feeling in my entire life.

I know you probably reading this and shaking your head telling me to 'grow up, everyone has challenges' but if I told you, a real smile has only graced my lips when you came into my sight, would you believe me?

I know, I know this is turning more into a sad letter than one centered around love. Let's ditch the labels, this is just a weird teenage boy writing a letter to an awesome teenage girl.

The first time I saw you was in the third grade, you were walking into the class like you owned the place with all black clothes, your hair was tossed into a messy ponytail while you chewed gum.

The teacher questioned why you were late on your first day and asked where your parents were, I remembered how all of us eight-year-olds were watching eagerly.

You replied, "I'm late because I'm not early." Then specifically paused so you could blow a bubble, "And my parents are trying to convince the principal to accept me into this school after he found out I made a teacher cry."

The rest of the class gasped and voiced their opinions of surprise while I simply laughed at your bluntness. You were different and my younger self liked that despite my friend's continuous rants that girls were disgusting creatures who pooped cooties.

You were lucky our third-grade teacher was kind-hearted or else you would have been sent straight to your parents by the office.

I guessed you were used to getting punishment since there was a gobsmacked expression on your face the moment the teacher chuckled at your words and introduced you to the class.

"This is Pierson Carmicheal everyone, make sure she feels welcome and remember, be a friend to make a friend."

I remember the day when I spoke to you for the first time. It was in seventh grade, where crushes began to form and the words 'like like' was what all the tweens wanted to hear.

Jason Patrickson walked up to you on recess with a cherry-flavored lollipop and a card he made in his free time that looked like it has been done by a baby who discovered a pencil.

You were leaning against the school building, carving "I think it's time to paint me blue again!" on the wall.

It wasn't that I was listening to your conversation or anything, I mean that would be downright absurd and it would be even worse if you find out who I am...Haha...

Anyway, I sat on the swing with my star wars lunch box on my lap, coincidentally being close to you and hearing the whole conversation.

"Uhm Piers, I wo- would-."

"Don't call me Piers, only my friends call me that and this is the first time you're talking to me." You said with a poker face and went over the words on the wall, adding a winking face at the end.

I remember smiling at your response, glad that you weren't enthralled by Jason's blonde hair and green eyes like every other girl in our grade. Ha, in your face Jason!

"O-oh s-orry. I- ... I wanted to s-ay th-at you ar-are pretty." Jason exhaled a huge breath and I chuckled as you turned your head and grimaced at the smell of his mouth.

Your twelve-year-old self didn't know it but at that time I was slowly winning against the battle I had with Jason in my head. He handed you the lollipop and card which you examined wearily.

"Wow, is that the only reason why you came to me? Because I was pretty? I don't know what you're thinking pal but to me, that is not a compliment. Why can't I be called passionate, unique, or just generally a good person? Why must everything be about looks?"

I tried keeping in my laughter because of the close distance but I was slowly starting to lose my restraint. The look that ran across Jason's face was indescribable.

Let's be real, we both didn't expect Jason to tattle to Mrs. Goldman that you wrote on the school walls after the whole ordeal (Hey that rhymed, sorry, mind my weird self.)

You approached him the next day and stuck the half-finished cherry lollipop he gave you the day before in his hair. Being able to witness him cut a huge chunk of his hair off was a memory I couldn't forget. He was nicknamed the bald eagle after that.

"That was so cool!" I said to you, the astonishment I had for what you did overrode the knowledge that this was the first time speaking with you.

You looked at me with a bored expression, "Indeed it was, freckle boy."

This letter is starting to take over two pages now and I'm scared that you might stop reading or you probably sleeping so I'll cut to the main part.

Throughout high school, I'm sure you haven't looked in my direction once and I questioned myself constantly why I'm in love with a girl who probably forgot I ever existed.

I never found an answer.

You were popular, known, a rebel to society's rules, and most of all different. Me, on the other hand, could be described in one word ... Weird.

I mean who isn't weird if they write a letter on paper? I mean even on the internet, what 17 years old writes letters?

I hope you weren't expecting roses are red and all that jazz from me, I'm not a writer at all. All I'm doing is writing the thoughts that are lingering in my mind as I go along so as you can tell this is not planned.

Probably throughout that whole letter, you've been screaming off the rooftop 'Get to the point freak!' and for the care of your neighbors, I shall do so.

Thank you for making me smile Pierson Carmicheal, you might not know it but it's a wonderful superpower to have, it's even better than the spidey sense.

I know its cowardly of me to only write you this letter because we probably not going to see each other after senior year. It's even more pathetic of me not to sign my name at the end of this.

Think of it as a double safety cushion.

Quick question, how do I end a letter? Why am I even asking you? Sometimes I wonder if I have a brain...

So I'll end it like this...

Pierson...

I like cheese???