It started when I sang you a song in sixth grade and you looked at me with those brown beautiful eyes and cruelly laughed at me, shrugging me off as just another nobody. The same way you looked at everybody else around you, except your crowd; the cheerios. I ran home from school and cried my eyes out, wondering what I had ever done to deserve that. Pleading to whoever was listening to make me normal, and yet a month later it happened all over again.

I wrote you a poem and you scrunched it up and threw it in the bin, laughing about it with your friends afterwards. It felt as if you had driven a knife, deep within, and twisted the blade so it reached a full 360-degree circle inside me. I fell to my knees, and once again found myself at home - crying my eyes out and wondering why I was like the way I am. Why did I have to fall in love with a girl? Why can't I be like everyone else - and fall for a boy?

Now I'm 17, in my senior year and I'm still in love with the same girl from sixth grade. The same girl that looks at me as if I'm just another nobody with no importance or any relevance to your being or to your life. And perhaps, that's just what I am. I'm no relevance at all. At least not to you, anyway. But, you're the only one who matters. You're the one thing I live for. The one thing I go to school for. The one thing I get out of bed for. And still, I'm just another nobody with a wasted heart on you. Because you're my everything, and you don't even know my name.

Well this is my name. I'm Brittany S. Pierce. You don't even know my life. Why would you, when you don't even know me? Anything about me, anything at all. In fact, you don't even know that it was me who wrote you those poems - all of them. I'd sit up, late at night, thinking of the way you looked that day. Seeing the smile on your face, at lunchtime as you sat by the cafeteria and laughed with your friends. You always managed to look amazingly gorgeous, everyday - every single day, you took my breath away. The words would come naturally, and by midnight - every night - I'd have another poem or another song written especially for you.

Not that you cared. Not that you gave yourself a chance to care.

My best friend, Tina, thinks I'm obsessed with you. Maybe she's right, maybe I am. Or, maybe I'm amazed, entranced, enthralled or any other adjective that could possibly describe the way you make me feel about you. I take one simple look at you, and I'm completely lost by you. I lose all sense of reality and become besotted by your beauty, by your mere presence - by the way your body lingers, as if everything you do is in complete slow motion. And all I want to do is savour each second for a rainy day.

You passed me in the hall, and glanced in my direction for a split second - which seemed an eternity for me. I remember every second, of your first eye contact with me, as if it happened yesterday. Casually strolling through the halls, to my next class, I see you in the distance and try not to stare like the obsessed freak, you probably think I am. Not that you would actually think that, because you don't even know of my existence. You're walking, alone, as if you're some Hollywood starlet. You walk with confidence, like you always do. Knowing of everyone's respect and admiration for you, as everyone quickly moves out of your way. The girls want to be you while the boys want to be with you. And then suddenly, your eyes meet mine for that momentary instant - and in that second, I'm in complete heaven. So this is what heaven feels like? Reality came crashing back, as soon as you were lost in the distance and I turned around to realise everyone had already moved to their next class, and I was left standing alone. Symbolic of everything that had happened in my life, up until thus far.

I gladly went into detention, for my tardiness that day, knowing it was worth it. To finally see your eyes meet mine and to feel so alive, inside, that it hurt all over. It's like a sudden light had turned my life upside down, because you looked at me. My body finally woke up to the realisation that I'm alive. I'm alive because you make me feel alive. You make my body feel alive. And all you have to do is look at me with those gorgeous eyes, that I have been looking at for so long, to make me come out of the coma - that it seems my body has been in for the last 17 years. The conscious coma is no more, because I'm finally alive.

Years had passed by, since I wrote my last poem to you in Junior High. I couldn't bare the routine of you scrunching up my feelings and throwing them into the bin. Is that what you would do if I told you how I felt about you? Would you look at me, in disgust, and throw me away like you throw my written words away? You probably would since I'm a girl, after all. I'm the abnormal girl because I'm in love with you – Santana Lopez. Miss Popularity. For some reason, though, I went home and stayed up until midnight again, writing you another poem. I already knew the outcome. You would open your locker, to see the mystery red envelope with the piece of paper with my words, written on them, inside. You would open it, glance at it, scrunch it up then throw it away, only to laugh about it with your friends afterwards. I remember, one day, overhearing you tell you friends, "Oh great, another sad lonely boy wanting my attention with another cheesy poem. As if I didn't get enough of these already." I cried, afterwards. But then, when it came to you, I cried a lot.

Midnight had already come and gone, and I had written nothing. My floor was messy with scrunched up pieces of paper all over. Trying to write another poem, for you, seemed to be so difficult this time. It's like I had nothing to say. And yet, at the same time, I had plenty to say. I wanted to tell you that you make me feel so alive. I guess, that wouldn't go down so well - not that you would actually read it anyway. Why was I torturing myself? I already knew the outcome, and yet here I sit at 4:30am, trying to find those right words - because I wouldn't settle for anything less.

You're like sunshine when it rains.

That's all I could come up with, in 6 hours of trying to find those words. Those magical words that you would care enough to read. Those words, that would stand out from the rest, and finally gain your attention. I want your attention. In fact, I need your attention because I'm going crazy inside every second I don't get to see you. Every second I don't get to hear your voice or see your smile; that smile that could make any bad day turn into a beautiful shining day.

The sun had risen an hour ago, and as I sat on my bed with pen and paper and watched the sun shine into my room, I again thought of the way you looked when the sun would shine down on your, already, glowing body. It seemed to enhance your body that extra special bit more. Paying particular attention to your curves, you were always eye candy. I could sit and watch you all day, and continue to be blissfully happy. Still with merely only 6 words on the piece of paper, before me, I decided to stop. It came to me, that writing you a poem wasn't what was needed. What was needed was this. A letter of sorts. A letter to you, from me, about the first time you broke my heart. And how you continued to break my heart, without even knowing it. But still, I find myself falling so hard for you - each day, everyday. I fall and fall and continue to fall, wondering if you would ever give me the time of day to catch me.

But I guess we already know that answer.

Today, we end our last year as school students. Tomorrow, we go into the big wide world and face reality - that thing called life. Anticipating what the future beholds for us. Finally, I realise, now I have nothing to lose. Because today is the last day I'll ever see your beautiful smile, your gorgeous eyes - the last day I'll ever see you. And I can't not help but wonder 'what if'? So here I am. This is me. Brittany S. Pierce. The girl you made fun of and pushed over, when we were mere toddlers in kindergarten. The girl you have known since we were five years old, but yet - you never gave me the time of day to actually know me. I went to school with you, since kindergarten. I wrote you those 'cheesy' poems since sixth grade, when I finally realised my crush on you was more than a crush. I wrote those songs, I tried to sing in school, for you - and you never paid them any attention. Instead, you mocked me. You made fun of me. You hurt me, and still - I'm in love with you.

No longer am I afraid. Maybe it's because I know you're only going to glance at this, before you end up throwing it away. Which is probably for the best anyway. But at least, after today, I'll have no regrets. I've finally laid my feelings on the line for you to ridicule. I am vulnerable, but only vulnerable to you. You can rip my heart out of my chest, and throw it away - it'll do nothing. Years of you doing just that has made me numb to the pain. However, by chance you do end up reading this, know this - since I first met you, you have been my everything. And until the day I die, my heart is forever yours, proudly so.

Brittany S. Pierce

Authors note: If there is interest I will post a second chapter with Santana's reaction to the letter, so please R&R if you like it.