I know it’s wrong, I know it will lead to nothing, I know that I will be disappointed and sad when I graduate in June.
But the truth is:
The more I talk to my English teacher, the more I fall in love with her. I also had her as a freshman, but at that stage of my life, I was filled to the brim with teenage angst which prevented me from seeing the beauty that is her. Now I have changed: I replaced my emo-esque style with skirts and flowy tops, the black eyeliner has left my eyes to show their natural beauty, my hair I used to straighten in a whoosh across my face is left in its beautiful natural curls. If she was single, I might have had a chance once I became older. But the problem is that she’s married and has two young kids. I KNOW, I KNOW. I can’t help it, though.
When we talk, I speak to her with the same comfort I do with my close friends. We joke, and we know about each other's personal lives.
My heart wrenches after every one of our conversations. Is it out of lust? Out of knowing we can never have more than this student-teacher relationship? It hurts.