When my eyes fell on him for the first time, it only held indifference; I was just bored of my new school. It was a slow burn. I was a frog that boiled to death because its tank was heated so gradually. I didn't even know when to jump out. I don't even remember the first time I talked to the guy. With time, he, I- we, closed the gap. We were chatting after school, passing snide remarks during class, “helping” each on tests, the whole nine yards. He mattered, no doubt. One chilly morning, he inadvertently touched my hand. The fact that I felt the texture of his fingers and the warmth of his body made me realize that something was awry. Something stirred inside me. No, it was nothing. NOTHING. The first warning. School was only fun when he was there. Only him. Just him. He was just my friend. FRIEND. When he wasn't in my sights he was in my thoughts. My reasoning was the laziest cop out- solitude. While I chose to be sort of a recluse, I also only buried my thirst for company. He simply roused it from slumber and now my mind was having issues dealing with it. Looking back, these justifications were so hilariously stupid. We were “best friends”. I was so happy when he confessed how much I mattered. I saved that text, ignoring any thoughts that questioned my behavior. I was THAT blind. To be frank I just pushed it all to the back of my head to let it fester. And oh fester it did; When farewell he bid To that pretty girl with a longing, I felt I was the one he was wronging. Raving and raging, I called upon his vice. He was mine; I'd keep him here, at any price. That was strike two. The outbursts grew frequent. But they made me cherish the times of harmony, no matter how few and far in between. I recall one day I was down and he comforted me. It was at that moment I felt that I didn't need anything as long as he was there. Nothing else mattered. He was there; everything was fine. That's what FRIENDS are for, right? I was living with denial day in and day out. And yet my knees got weak at the mere thought of him. He held so much sway over my feelings; one word, one text, could potentially ruin my day. Time went on though, and I thought I'd get over all of this. I had painted a rosy picture of us in the future, happy and free of conflict. And still best friends. One night I had the most beautiful and the most frightening dream ever. It was him. He clasped my hand and leaned close. Without warning he pressed his lips onto mine. I woke up in a cold sweat with my heart racing. I was so happy and yet so...SO terrified. This was a sign I could not ignore. Now, dear reader, you're probably thinking it's just another sad love tale. I don't blame you but do keep reading. If it was I'd be crying about it elsewhere. No, you see, I couldn't feel this way. I SHOULDN'T feel this way. When I was face to face with reality I turned away in disgust. My skin crawled at the thought of my forbidden desires. One of the biggest prompts for suicide is self-loathing and I knew that a little too personally. In fact the only thing that prevented me was my cowardice, which only added insult to injury. I am an anomaly. A heretic, I might as well be, But a limit exists, even for me. As proud as I am And don't give a damn I'm ashamed of a certain thought, Will it take over? I pray not. Yes, pray, pray as much as I might After each cleansing it returns, at night The thought lingers; With crossed fingers, For abstinence I promise as a token; But I know, it's a pledge to be broken. Again and again I indulge into it And cry and beg in every prayer I sit. With jealous eyes I almost despise, The ones who are free, who have it all, For the first time, I want to be normal. I wrote this just yesterday. I can't help it. This is just how I feel. All I did was love. Is that a crime? Is that a sin? Is anyone out there who has the cure? Please, help me.