Sunday October 23rd, 2016
So... I'm sitting here in the third floor lounge with Annie, and across the room in the other lounge is a much more social group of people, ..... and then thereās this guy. Iām going to call him Strontium. I don't know why he catches my eye. I don't know why he makes me every kind of happy. I don't know why I get jealous when he's around other girls that he isn't even involved with. I don't know why I worry about him so much. I barely know him. But still, I care about him more than I've ever cared about anyone in my entire life. I don't know what to do. I'm now sitting alone on one side of the lounge just typing, seeming to everyone else (if they even notice) that I'm busy. Annie left to go to bed and now I'm stuck here wondering what to do.
I left. I walked right out of the door. (Probably unnoticed.)
Who am I? Invisible. What am I to them? Just a passing bystander. Just another unwelcome guest that visits their hall. What do they care about me? Probably nothing. Though it pains me to know and accept this fact, I don't physically live there. They say "Home is where the heart is." If this is accepted and true, then my home is not in Gowing 169. It resides in a frequently overlooked room on the third floor of Lovelace Dormitory evermore in the care of Strontium Hydroxide. Though he probably does not realize it, he has the power to simultaneously warm my heart to the temperature of the sun and shatter it into an amount of pieces equaling the number of stars in the universe.
I'm in my room now, thanking God that my roommate is not present. I just need to be alone.
What am I suppose to do if I can't even work up the courage to go talk to him? Admittedly, it is nearly impossible to find him at a point in time when he is alone and not doing some type of meaningful work. I wouldn't even know what to say to him. "Hey! Why didn't you respond to my Facebook message I sent you almost a week ago?" "Am I just that distasteful to be around or even talk to?"; "What can I do to make you see me?ā; "I'm completely and totally in love with you. I'm just too afraid to admit it because of a fear of rejection and constantly feeling like I'm not good enough because that's how I've been treated literally the whole of my existence."
But am I really in love? Is this what it feels like? To be in a state of euphoria every time I get just the slightest glimpse of him. To think about him every second of every day. To constantly wonder about ways I can be a better version of myself in order to get him to notice me.
As a scientist, I cannot deem anything to be 100% true. There are only accepted explanations considered to be true by the scientific community.
So, I, Janice Mia Jasse, on this twenty-third day of October, two thousand and sixteen, declare that love, however abstract and nonsensical it may be, is the only logical way to explain my thoughts and feelings towards Strontium Hydroxide.
It's 2:09 in the morning.
I'm in my dorm room wishing I was in Strontiumās arms. I feel like I'm trapped. I feel like he doesn't even notice me. We've never had any kind of face-to-face, one-on-one conversation. But why? Because I'm not pretty enough? Because I'm not skinny enough? Because I'm not smart enough? Because I'm not outgoing enough? Because I'm just not good enough? It's probably a combination. Was I just not destined to be happy? Do I not deserve happiness? Please tell me because I do not know. Sleep calls, even though there are millions of thoughts rushing through my mind. My eyes are burning from holding them open for so long. My feet ache from a long day of constantly walking. My eyelids begin to get heavier and heavier as my heart rate becomes slower and slower. And although I can't physically prove it, the last thing on my mind tonight will be the likeness of Strontium Hydroxide.
