Mikalah

 For the girl in class 326, row 6 last seat, year 1.  

This girl was a dandelion seed straddling a wish. A dream I never thought would turn flesh and grin for wire hangers like me. 

Let's just say people like me, we don't become captain of the football team because the only thing we are good at is stopping ourselves from saying "I like you" to a girl that holds the remote control to our smile. We are blurry silhouettes to everything that is popular. Often times wearing our skin like a costume of someone we didn't feel comfortable pretending to be anyway. We swallow earthquakes and tremble at the smell of perfume. We are bashful, tongue tied and nervous in high definition. 

If it wasn't for my homie who sat right beside you. I would have been the first to speak to you. Year 1 was spent waiting idly by in respect. 

For the girl in year 2. 

If it wasn't for my respect for the next guy, I would've been the next guy. Year 2 was spent waiting idly by in respect. 

For the girl in year 3. 

Year 3 was spent waiting idly by in respect. As I sat idly by I worked on trying to think of how I could approach you.So the question is: if a boy falls for a girl that's out of his league and there's no one around to hear him, does he even make a sound? 

The answer is HELL and the first two letters of nothing.

For the girl in class 329, seat 2 , at the back of the room. 

If I had known about the ending. I would have been the next guy. Yet that would've been ill timed. To rush you right out of that, but I'm a perpetual high class guy. I was never a thug and they used to respect me for it

But now the game's fucked up and I gotta Michael Coreleone these niggas

Quiet, confident, I wanna talk to you. 

But I'm afraid. I'm afraid that I'm going to stubble over my words, bite my tongue, or my voice will crack and sound like a station wagon with really bad transmission. Two years ago I was a pocket full of chalk dust. I was elevator music that sounded like a station wagon with really bad transmission. At this age I was a ballot box stuffed with everyone else's opinions except for my own. My swagger was like watching a Walkman trying to swallow a DVD. At this age my mouth was a door with rusty hinges and I walk as if the ground would be concerned about my footsteps.  See I just want to tell you that I think you worth so much more than what I could ever tell anyone. Every form of expression is obsolete and incapable of doing you justice.  

I know you get this kinda thing all the time. I don't want to keep you too long so. I hope this made you smile at the least.