Skittles and an english project

It all started because of a stupid english project. I dreaded it, you were dull to me. The normal jock type. You never looked at me. Never wanted to know me. I hated you for that. I just wanted you to see me like no one else has. I researched you. You made me laugh. I laughed so hard I cried. I didn't know what this feeling was. I liked it. It scared me. Then I presented my poster of you to the class. You smiled at me. Bright. My cheeks turned hot pink. I glided my teeth against my lower lip, and looked down to the warn out carpet. The bell rang. It was over. This feeling, I was sure would soon leave me. It didn't. You messaged me. Once a week. Five times a week. Once a day. Twelve times a day. I loved it. I wrapped myself around the thought of you. Then just when I thought you were my Leanardo, you ruined it. You threw my feelings on the ground and stomped on them with your baseball cleats. It's been awhile and now your lingering back into my life. I'm scared. I don't want to cry anymore. I no longer want to need you. Except for some reason I can never stop.