Things went as usual, I initiated talks with Kritika, struggled to find more ideas to discuss and extend the time I had with her. These useless efforts of mine sometimes made me sad and think of myself and my dignity. But even if I wanted to I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop, not because I loved her (Yep, I loved her, took me a while to realize) but because I feared the agony I had to suffer from if my cravings to look at her weren’t satiated.

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Did I tell you that precocious lovers are moody?

I realized that Kritika wasn’t much interested in me, the fact that I always had to initiate the conversations and had to strive to keep them going on (because she didn’t ever had anything to say) made me conclude that I had no chance with her.

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I had the number of the girl I desired, but not the courage to put up a conversation with her. After having typed ‘Hi Kritika’ and deleting every single character for innumerable times, I gave up. Teenage lovers are the most moody people you can find on the façade of earth, I waited for a spasm of desperate-confidence to hit me.

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Love is supposed to be blind.

I’m not sure about others but mine certainly is. My love is blind to the fact that she does not love me, it is blind to the fact that she often tries to ignore me, it is blind enough to not see that she would not ever be able to reciprocate the passion I feel for her.

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