This is a tale of unrequited love.

In seventh grade there were several things which defined my life: I was unpopular, I was hideous, and I rode the bus to school. The combination of these three factors made for a hellish experience. For the record, I no longer think I am hideous, but there was a point in time where I was rather difficult to look at.

In seventh grade, I developed a small crush on a certain boy who rode the bus with me. It was not a big crush, not the kind where I'd be mildly let down if he did not show up to school that day. So what if I fantasized about him rescuing me from wild bears in the mountains while we were on a romantic date? Blame Disney.

I'm not sure who I told about this crush; I'm pretty sure I told no one, but somehow word on the bus got out. Said bus was such a hostile place; it was like some sort of microcosm of the animal world. If you weren't at the top of your game, if you weren't a lion among gazelles, you sat at the front of the bus, and then you were a loser. The back of the bus was for the cool kids and after all the cool kids got off the bus was when I could sneak back and maintain my dignity. Anyway, people on the bus found out that I liked this guy and told him. Of course, I had no idea at the time, and on that overcast day I was partaking in my usual activity of staring out the window and making up stories about the houses we passed and the people who lived inside them. I could hear my crush talking in the back of the bus. Wait. He was gagging. Saying something about how awful it was. I wasn't paying much attention. Wait, now he was saying something about how it's really bad, about how she's sooooo gross. More guttural noises. Still, I paid no mind. People were whispering. It seemed like everyone was being told some sort of secret, and in between the cupped hands over ears there would be stares my way, and then some snickering. Hm. Interesting. I stopped paying attention to the stories in my mind and started trying to crack the case before me. Soon, my crush got off the bus. I had one friend on the bus. He wasn't really my friend anymore, but we used to be friends when we were little, so I felt comfortable asking him this vital question. At this point, I had gathered that the object of my affection had learned someone liked him, someone he wasn't too happy about.

"Is it me?" I asked my friend. I'll never forget the way his eyes shifted to the side as he tried to lie but realize he couldn't do it.

"Yeah," he said.

His answer physically hurt. There seemed to be a rod made of lead which bore through my soul. I didn't even like him THAT much. What hurt the most, however, was knowing that I was so disgusting to him, so vile and putrid. That me liking someone could ignite a chorus of "Eeewwww!" throughout the bus.

My stop was next. I got off. I felt like marching inside, going straight to my room and hanging myself. Instead I went downstairs where my mother was working on the computer. I opened the door. She looked at me.

"What's wrong?" she asked. I took a few steps towards her. I intended to tell her, calm and collected, but instead I fell--literally fell--at her knees. And I cried. I cried so hard I couldn't breathe. I cried until my body could not keep up with my demand for tears. I blurted out, through sniffles and drool, what had happened. It made me so ashamed to admit what he had said, it made me embarrassed for my mother, that she had a daughter so undesirable that people could not stomach the thought of me liking them. I don't remember what she said, probably something about him not meaning anything which I didn't believe but she turned out to be right about.

Ten years later, I can still remember exactly how I felt during those moments. These stories are not ones I will readily admit to in public, but my hope is that somewhere out there, someone who is reading this knows exactly what I went through. I hope it makes one person feel better about themselves. I hope one person decides they won't let another person bring them to their knees in tears. I know there are a lot more serious things a person can live through besides being teased in school, but I'll argue that there is nothing worse than feeling like you aren't worthy enough for love, respect and kindness.