Texts from Tyler.

"He said 'This is cute'. That's all.", I complained to Tyler about the Brandon incident.
"Don't you think if he liked me he would've said more?"
"Well, Amy... these things take time. You have to be patient.", Tyler sighed.
He was trying to calm me down.
Tyler always did.
Him and I had gotten really close this past year.
Tyler was a total dork and I loved it.
He was also super sweet.


Tyler was always complimenting me, though.
I didn't like it.
I don't know why, but being complimented always bothered me a little bit.
I think it's because I don't feel like I need to hear that I'm pretty or smart.
I have opinions about myself that aren't going to be changed by anyone's compliments, or insults for that matter.
You could tell me that I'm beautiful over and over again, but if I don't feel beautiful I'm not going to care and your opinion won't sway me.
On the contrary, you could tell me that I'm stupid, ugly, and fat, but if I don't believe that I am I'm only going to ignore your comments.


I didn't have practice so I got home early Friday.
My phone vibrated loudly.
It was a text from Tyler.
"Hey, can you talk?"
I replied a while later and told him that I wasn't busy.
We had a general "what's up/what are you doing?" conversation until he said it.
I told him that something was wrong with me... that I probably had some phsycological problem.
I was only joking though.
"No. You're perfectly fine." he replied.
"Amy and the word 'perfect' don't belong in the same sentence", I replied laughing out loud.
"No, you really are great." Tyler said.
"No, I'm not. Don't say that Tyler.", I said.
I knew where this conversation was going.
"But it's the truth," he replied, "You're great, nice, and funny too."


I didn't think so.
I was far from nice.
I was a monster for what I was doing to him.
You see, Tyler liked me. I could tell.
I wasn't cocky or anything... but sometimes you just know.
The way he was always complimenting and texting me non-stop was a bit of a hint.
I didn't like him though... not in the same way he liked me.


I should tell you more about Tyler.
Tyler was adorable.
He was half Asain and half Caucasian.
A thin boy, rather "indie-looking" actually.
He always had his ipod close by.
He was too nice and for that he was bound to get hurt someday.
I couldn't bare to see that... to see Tyler hurt, because he didn't deserve to get hurt ever.
Now, not only was I about to see him get hurt, I was going to cause that hurt.


I was not attracted to Tyler.
As much as I actually WANTED to be.
I really did want to feel the same that Tyler felt about me.
I tried to be attracted to him, and I still wish somewhat wish that I was attracted to him.
Because then this would be easy.
If I liked Tyler we could get together and be happy.
I just couldn't though.
As much as I tried to convince myself to like Tyler I was still incredibly commited to my head-over-heels crush on Brandon.


"Is it wrong for me to think that?", asked Tyler.
"How do you see me?", I replied without thinking.
"Do you really want to know?", he asked.
"Yes."
"Okay. Well, Amy, I think you're pretty and funny and smart. You're a great person to talk to and spend time with." He confessed.
"You deserve better. You deserve someone who's able to like you too. You know that, right?", I responded.
"I'll decide what I deserve," he said stubbornly.
I didn't reply and he got anxious.
"Did you get my last message? We could just be friends, Amy." he said.
"I'd like that very much, Tyler.", I replied.
I was dying inside. He was holding back. He didn't really want to be just friends, but he settled for it.
A rush of guilt came over me as he replied, "Me too. (:"
It was easy to smile through a text message.
I pretend to smile and laugh through texts all the time.
But what if he was dying inside?
What if he was hurt and I was the cause.
Stupid me. Why couldn't I just settle for Tyler, just as he had settled for "just friends".


Nothing was right.
Tyler liked me.
I liked Brandon.
I wouldn't be surprised if Brandon had feelings for a girl who liked Tyler.
This was just my luck.