"The leaves are falling and so am I," I said. "It works beautifully."

"In love with whom? Boy #12, perhaps?" I laughed when he said it to me. But it's two weeks later and I am not laughing. I think there are serious signs pointing to the fact that I do care, and Boy #1's indifference as of late hasn't helped in matters. At first I told him because I wanted to make him jealous..."Oh look, Boy #12! Boys getting my sex! Boys who are not you!" Boy #1's apathy was not encouraging.

I'm reluctant to even speak to him now. I worry about it. And suddenly...He comes to me. My eyes pop out. Sometimes life can be so strange. Maybe we're psychicly linked. This time, however, Boy #12 is sitting in the back of my mind. His gaunt face this afternoon, pale and sad. His head pressed against my shoulder while he moaned in pain. My hands running through his hair and his playful slaps.

Aw, Christ. Here I go again.

No, though. I still dream about Boy #1, I still exist in the world where everyone is compared to him, even Boy #12 (who is special, and perhaps deserves a letter, or some new form of notation to show that this type relationship is new and exciting). Maybe he could become Boy A.

I wrote a brilliant essay, only to have his outshine mine. It's alright, we're perfect together, right now. Friends to the end, drunk kissing on weekend...and distinctive writing styles that are melding slowly.