My Diary...

His dark brown hair which shines chestnut when sunlight dances across it?

His emo-style fringe, which dips across his eyebrows?

His chocolate brown eyes which seem to glint in shades of auburn, cheekily laughing at you from under dark lashes?

His grin, which, even if you're in the darkest of moods, you can't help returning?

His wonky tooth, which still needs to push out the baby one?

The small bump on the bridge of his nose?

The way his nostrils flare a bit when he laughs?

The slight shuffling swagger as he walks?

The scraggly nails, which dirt caked under them?

The long fingers that he plays the guitar with?

The hang-nails and uneven clouds?

The faint scars on his tanned arms from when he was mucking about with a compass?

The way his fingers always need to be tapping the desk, drumming out a beat?

The way that when he's thinking, he leans his head on his hands and strokes his chin, absent-minded?

I know his laugh like the back of my hand.

I know his type of humor, but I can see his serious side as well. Not just the jokey side he puts on for show...

The way you turn around to ask him a question, and you find him looking at you. He either turns away, pretending it never happened, or stares you out, until you raise your eyebrows slightly and look away.

But even if I know all this, he's still confusing as ever. He makes you feel special, sharing a joke with you, talking to you, flirting with you a bit. Even seeing him glance at you can bring a smile to your face, lighting up your day.

But then he blows it. Sitting next to another girl in assembly, hugging another, flirting with someone else.

So then your dreams come crashing to the ground.