I Can Love, But I Need His Heart [Intro]

Shiny Toy Gun's Stripped playing I pulled out my laptop. Agitation shadowed my fingers as I opened a word document. I had to get this out before I could sleep.
It was something difficult to describe. Something difficult to accept. I didn't want to come to terms with it, and yet had no choice. I was in love, I had thought I knew it before. But that compared to this was a single lit match before a brush fire. I hated what this did to me, this week in the knees, fluttery stomach, shaking hands, and trembling lips thing. I couldn't stop my own body attacking me whenever I saw him. Any romantic movie or song and I thought of him. Even things on TV would make me catch my breath and throw my hand over my eyes. I couldn't escape him, when I slept I dreamt. If my mind lay dormant for too long my thoughts inevitably drifted to him. I could paint his face with my eyes closed, pick him out of a crowd of thousands. This was love, this was pain.
I dreaded seeing him, at the exact moment that I dreaded not seeing him. This was cruel, and yet wonderful. There really isn't a way to describe how I loved and hated the fact that I loved him. I hate that I love you seems so cliche. Just as loving a poison seems too poetic. But trying to put it down in simple words, trying to describe it... I am failing miserably. Every moment I want to move past him, but at the same time I am terrified that I will move on. I cannot see anyone but him at some times. Everything around him just blurs. I am sure that he knows that I do exist, whether or not he knows my name I do not know. The real question I want answered is does he care? My mind tells me most likely not, just as my heart screams that he has to. If he does not my heart only sees black death. My mind sees more days, other people, other places. So logical, so unromantic. How is it possible to feel this? How is there this much potential for pain?
I would be lying if I said that I didn't want to see him right now. Or that I didn't want to hear his voice right now, that I didn't want him to read this and feel something. That I didn't want him to live just for me, as I seemed to live for him. I would also be lying if I said that I didn't want this torture to end. I can only hope that once I graduate I will leave him in my past instead of dragging him with me. Six weeks, that's all that's left.

Eyes and fingers drooping I saved it as graduation for lack of a better name and flipped my computer closed, blowing out my candle and turning off the light. I was ready for another dream of him.
My alarm clock rang too soon. Opening my eyes was torture. He had just been here, but it was only a dream. How pitiful. I hurried through the process of getting ready. I always slept as long as possible and only had ten minutes. With clothes on properly and laptop in my bag I ran for the door.
"Thanks for joining us this morning Michelle," my journalism teacher let out dryly, arms crossed over her chest.
"I made it before the bell," I objected skidding into my seat and rolling a few inches.
"Barely," she drawled as the bell blared across the hall into the room. She moved to her desk and the class began, we only had forty minutes to print off the latest copy of the school paper.

"Hey, can you run outside to get a couple pics for me? Mine are over exposed," Sara complained leaning over my desk.
"Can't you?" I asked, eyes not leaving my computer screen as my hand raked through my hair.
"I can't find my memory card," she admitted after a moment, "if I tell Mrs. J she'll freak. I can put your article in the paper," she offered. I looked at her pouting face, glanced back at my screen, and reached for my own memory card.
"Fine, my article is saved on here. I'll go grab a camera."
"You just saved my life, thank you so much!"
"Yeah, no problem." I grabbed a camera and headed for the door.

I quickly snapped the photos, knowing there wasn't much time before printing, maybe ten minutes. Camera tucked under my arm I walked quickly through the hallways. "Too late Michelle, we printed without that picture, better luck next time." Rolling my eyes behind the teacher's back to Sara I took my seat.
"Hey, your article was about graduation, right?" Blood rushed loudly in my ears as I heard the printer whir to life.
"My article was about cleaning up the cafeteria," I said through numb lips. "Please tell me you did not put the file graduation into the paper," I pleaded staring at Sara's face.
"I-I thought that was your article," she stuttered, not knowing why I was suddenly so upset. I shoved back from my seat.

"We have to stop printing," I said loudly.
"Half the copies are already done, it's too late," Jenny called over, standing next to the printer.
"Mrs. J, please, we cannot hand those out."
"Why?"
"Because Sara dragged something personal in, not my article."
"Is it not school appropriate?"
"Mrs. J, you cannot be serious," I said, mouth hanging open.
"Do you know how much printer ink and paper run? We just printed off 150 copies. Unless you wrote something that students can't read they go out just like all the other ones. You should have proof read whatever you submitted." She turned away and I knew that there was no more arguing to be done.

I returned to my desk and sank into my chair. My hands covered my pale face. This could not be happening, my life could not be doing this to me. Senior year was about to blow up right in my face.