Thirsting for him was the hardest thing she'd ever have to live with. Many had told her she would be fine without him; after all, she wasn't born needing him and had lived without him long before he came around.
She thought -- believed -- much differently. She had come to the final conclusion that everyone is born with an insatiable thirst. They won't acknowledge it ever until something comes along to trigger it: that something, in her case, being him.
And it was truly torture.
The worst part of it all was that he knew who she was. It would have been better if she was not existent to him; then there would be a good reason for him to not be with her.
Yet, he knew her name, knew her face, had heard her voice when she answered questions in class, and had handed her her stuff with a treasured smile when she dropped it in the hallway. There was no way to forget him so easily. She held onto his smile whenever she thought of him, and of the way he so gently patted her shoulder when he said goodbye. The biggest crush had turned into the most intense fixation, driving her decisions and emotions over the edge. Her straight A's became B's, her sweaters became modest tank-tops, and her usually organized room was left cluttered.
He was all she ever thought about, all she ever wanted. The thirst was taking over.
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