I've always considered myself to be unique. I, nor has anybody else, been able to stereotype me. I'm egotistical, I like sports, I read books, I hang out with people who have purple hair. I can be a royal bitch sometimes, but I never really cared until I finally broke up with my boyfriend.

He never called me a bitch; in fact he never said anything until I asked him a direct question. Let's call him Mark. Mark and I met in seventh grade at a dance. Dances seem to always get me into boy trouble, whether it's my guy, or me playing cupid because my friends are just as out of touch with the opposite sex as I am. I go to an all girl's school. No, I'm not lesbian. I like guys, I love guys. There are about twenty posters on my bedroom walls of boy bands and the Phelps twins. But meeting guys is hard since I attend a school where we all play a taboo game of 'who can wear their skirt the highest without Mrs. G. pulling out her ruler.'

But Mark was seemingly special. He played just as much sport as me, he did well in school, and he even came to see me and our friend Kylie when we were in the musical last year. But, since I can't legally drive yet, our relationship was restricted to email and short phone conversations. We made each other laugh, and I could pretty much tell him anything. But after a few months, he stopped emailing me altogether. I still saw him at dances. We made eye contact, did a polite little wave, and avoided each other for the rest of the night.

My whole life, I always am trying to fix something, my grades, my parents, and my friends. And now I kept trying to email Mark, asking why we stopped emailing, apologizing for something that I might have said to offend him. He always said I did nothing, and when I asked what happened then, all I got was a feeble, I dunno. It was pissing me off.
I sent him several rude emails, severing all possibility of civil relations, and I bragged to my friends that I never wanted him, never needed him. Only two people in the entire world know that I miss him, getting emailed from him made me feel special. So I broke my cardinal rule. I asked for forgiveness.
I asked if we could be friends, and he gladly accepted, but there is tension. There is another dance coming, and I haven't been so apprehensive since my soccer team played in state finals. Should I go over and say hi? Should I dance with him? Or should I give him the cold shoulder and dance with some random hot guy to make him jealous? This isn't love. The storybooks say so.