A private confession

In all honesty, the girl never really knew how to handle boys at all. It was a bit surprising, seeing as most of her friends were male, but none the less, this was a true fact. She was hopeless when it came to talking to them, understanding them and predicting them in general. And this was definatly a problem, as she was utterly, truely and absolutely in love. Yes, that's right. The girl who could not handle boys was in love.

It wasn't something she was ashamed of, or was afraid of, oh no. She was proud of her feelings and wanted to share them with him. But, because she had know idea how the brains of boys worked(especially this one), she did not know what would happen to her if she let out so much as a peep. She had felt some severe scorn before(and not just in love) and was mildly afraid she'd be left behind like all the other times. And so, day after day, it would eat at her on the inside, every time she heard his name, saw something that reminded of him and every time she saw him. It was cruel and unfathomable that the delicate feeling of love could do this to someone.

She felt rather inferior and unintelligent when she saw him. He could do everything she couldn't. He was taller, seemed braver...he could do so much. And every time she thought about this, her praise extended silently to him, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. And whenever she realized how obsessive she seemed, she chastised herself and felt even stupider than she had before. She felt like a pitiful stalker who would, in the end, scare him away. But she really couldn't help herself.

She'd hum songs, in hopes that he would hear her and look her way. But her voice was still too quiet. She would look over to him, in hopes she'd catch his eyes. But wouldn't you know it, he was too busy. What a shame she couldn't simply just walk over and say hello. But she was just too shy, and she still didn't know how to handle it properly. The girl didn't know how to talk to this boy and she probably never will. What a shame she can't do this.

In the end, it'll probably end with her watching him walk away with someone else. But that's how it goes when you can't ever take the initiative.

There will always be more 'buts' for this story-like confession. Always, no matter how much I try to wrap it up, it will have more buts. I do need to end it, eventually, though. So I guess for a final but, I could give myself some hope.
In reality, he might never see it, and never know.
But then again, in reality...

He might be just like me.
The boy might not really know how to handle girls at all.<i>