Yearning That's what they called what you did: follow him around, try to talk to him, be nice to him. All you wanted was to be his friend; people told you he would never accept it, that he just isn’t the type of guy you should go for, but you don’t care. You are determined to make him like you, at least just a little bit.

His name was Ezra, he’s the captain of the schools swim team, most popular guy in school, very extraverted, but he was also called a piece of stone, who wouldn’t care if you gave him a million dollars if you wanted to be his friend, you had to forget about it. He wasn’t the type of guy to do that; he would pick and choose his friend group via social status, familiar status, and wealth. His group was the highest of the highs, the most popular, everyone’s dream group in our small high school.

But you, on the other hand, were some geek, a nobody in the eyes of the social ladder, someone people could walk over because you let them. Unlike the other people at that school, you were kind, too kind, people could use you, hurt you over and over again, and then lie about your name, and you would still forgive them with a smile on your face. It made everyone despise you, but the one who hated you most was him. Because no matter what he did, you were always there, waiting, following, and bothering him to the point others started to avoid being seen with him because of your constant appearance. It pushed his buttons, but you didn't seem to care about the insults, the constant shoves, pushes, and threats; you just smiled your stupid happy smile.