Maybe, maybe

It's hard to meet people that want to know you as much as you do. It's bad when you understand that someone matters to you, that you want to know his secrets, what makes him happy, console him when he’s sad and to whom you're nothing more than "another student". The world crumbles and you start hating him. Or thinking you hate him. Because his feelings are not like yours.
At it sucks so much, To watch him near you and don't recognize you, the one who's been watching him. You just want him to notice you, as you are, a person, instead of "another student". You want him to want to know you, to have talks where you laugh, instead of a big, fat, silence. You imagine so many conversations you could have with him and, when that time arrives, you look like a baby, with nothing in your head, except for the basic necessities.
And when you're alone again, every smart thing you could have said, to stop him to think you as “another one" comes to you. "Maybe it's the difference of age", you lie to yourself. "Maybe he's tired". "Maybe, maybe..." And you start finally, realizing that maybe, just maybe, you're not a interesting person, and all the things he said was, after all, for pity.