Sometimes I don't By Tipsie X.T.

I miss you.

I miss your little blonde cowlick that refuses to stay tame.

I miss your big brown eyes staring into mine, glinting with a challenge.

I miss how you would come over when the teacher wasn't looking and peer over my shoulder, eyeing my doodles on the already-finished worksheet.

I miss the fights-that-weren't-really-fights, the teasing and pushing and glares while trying not to smile.

I miss correcting you when you get something wrong, and immediately having to deal with your snark.

I miss the teachers always yelling at us for disrupting the class.

I miss meeting eyes with you across the room and feeling rejuvenated and ready for the long day ahead.

I miss how you would tower over me and get up close, making me feel all small and submissive.

I miss hearing my name called from across the classroom, you demanding my help on a stubborn grammar problem and both of us ending up finishing before any of the other students.

I miss sitting next to you in science and waiting for you to finish your paper and hand it to me to copy.

I miss depending on each other.

I miss my friends being jealous because I spend too much time talking about you.

I miss you talking back to the gym teacher and having to run extra laps, knowing I'm practically drooling over your athletic physique.

I miss silently competing over who's smarter in math class, me starting and first but letting you win.

I miss waking up knowing you're going to annoy me the entire school day.

I miss you calling me names and me jokingly insulting your mother.

I miss playing in the same group in P.E. and not having to do anything because you know I'm self-conscious.

I miss you calling me short whenever I tease you and me saying, "Dumb blonde."

I miss waiting anxiously for the teachers to assign new seats, hoping that I'm still next to you.

I miss pushing each other around and teasing each other.

I miss accidentally saying something dirty and having to deal with you telling anyone who'll listen to you the entire day.

I miss arm-wrestling and getting mad when you let me win, but getting even madder when you win.

I miss passing notes, getting caught, and sneaking the paper out of the art teacher's apron without her noticing.

I miss telling each other our dreams and the reasons we want them.

I miss you.

But I don't miss crying over you every night, seeing you with her every day, and having to deal with all these feelings.

Sometimes I miss this unrequited love.

Sometimes I don't.