time-waster supreme

I've decided that I'm going to delete my old journal, since the last time I posted in it was when I found out my mother had cancer. But I had a post about crushes and I sort of liked it.

I’ve been thinking about crushes lately (I’m not entirely sure why), but I just simply got the urge to share this particular bit of information about myself.

I had my first crush when I was three years old and in my first year in preschool (being three, I was there for two years instead of just the normal one). You see, the person that I became infatuated with was an older girl (about five). Her name was Tori and with her long hair and light brown skin, I thought she was the most perfect, most beautiful girl on earth. Everyday, I’d try to play with Tori, to be as close to her as possible but there was an obstacle. Tori had a little brother, who absolutely hated me for some reason I could never understand. I remember that he once told me to stay away from his sister. It probably comes to no surprise that I ignored the little git. But I never really got to play with her, she actually had so many other friends that there was no room for me. After that year, Tori left the school, and I never saw her again.

My other crush happened just three years later. I was in the first grade and for some reason, that I can’t remember, our class was partnered with the second graders. And one of those second graders was Christopher Columbus (you have my permission to snort. Go on do it.). And while I would have died if anyone had known this then, I adored him with all of the intensity a six year old could muster.

*sigh*

Chris, however, did not share my adoration. I think that he had a crush on my best friend, Alisa. All I know for certain was that he didn’t like me. I, mean, he really, really didn’t like me. I remember one incident where I was wearing something that I was particularly fond of and I asked him “Do you think I look stupid in this?” To which he replied “I always think you look stupid”. Oy, that was like a sledgehammer to my little heart. I went home and cried on my mother’s lap. The pain I felt was real of course hurt, but it didn’t lessen my love for him. I won’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt to know that the boy I was considering for the role of my husband had said something so cruel and hurtful to me.

I did eventually get over Chris (seeing as how after that year I never saw him again, it wasn’t that hard) but that was the last real crush I ever had (well except for the odd celebrity here and there). I’ve found many people attractive over the years but I’ve never actually met anyone who actually made me want to be with them.