This whole confusing mess started in elementary school. It wasn't quite so confusing then. It was really simple: the older cooler kids pick on the weak, not so cool, younger kids. In that scenario, I was the younger kid with the confusing emotions that I didn't understand. I couldn't tell on him, yet I couldn't stop the bullying.

Everyday, I would run home in tears. Everyday, I would take the bullying the best way I could. My mother would try to comfort me, but my emotions would bounce me back: I loved him. I know I should fight back physically, and call him every name in the book, but I won't, and I can't. I guess you could say he cast a spell on me.

I only realized my feelings at the most awkward moment of my life. I was fourteen then. He had pinned me against the brick wall of the middle school to hurt me, and at that moment I realized that I loved him. After he was done hitting and insulting me, he left. Since then I have been eager to go to high school, so I can see him more. He is three years older than me, so I didn't see him much.

Two days from now, I will start my freshman year of high school.