Walking back home after school today, despite painful and torturous cramps, I manage to undergo a revelation, with screenplay.

Said revelation with screenplay:

I can almost imagine you with someone else already, you know? She's small-sized. Skinny-ish, shorter than me, cute. She smells of shampoo and loofah. Kind of short hair, layered. You'd be sitting with her at Mcdonalds, you guys are quiet. Silent, almost; apart from the random straw noises she makes when she drinks her coke with her straw or twizzles it in its place. You're shy, she's shy. You think of what to say, but you can't come up with anything, she sits and waits for you to come up with something. No one's talking, but you guys are sharing anyway because you understand each other even in one another's presence. 

I observe all this from afar, because I've noticed you sitting three tables down. I'm with my friends, having lunch. I don't say hi, and I don't make eye contact, I just see. All along I'm talking to my friends, we're discussing things happening in jc, but my mind's somewhere else. One of my friends get up to go to the washroom, I follow suit, wanting to walk past and say hi. I stop myself, and then I sit back down. No, I'm going to continue remaining as a shadow. Better to see all but be never seen. And then we start to pack up and leave. I gather my wallet and belongings and stuff them away, glancing back at you two.

Now both of you are engaged in a conversation, you say something and she tilts her head back and laugh, you grin because she has laughed and you love her laughter. Then I think if I should've said hi. I think if I should say hi now. I step forward and then hesitate. My friends beckon me to leave, as they begin walking away from the table. I'll see you next time again, I think. Then I turn to walk away because I can, and I have. You never saw me, so I hadn't crossed your mind. But that's okay, because your whole world is sitting in front of you, the girl with the layered short hair and the intoxicating laugh.